Bioshock Infinite: Unbroken
by MasamuneZERO
Summary: Booker DeWitt has spent the last year clearing his debt and caring for Anna. However, something disturbs him; visions of another life, of a city above the clouds, and of a girl. Now, nightmares of the girl haunt him, driving him to find her, to again step into the Tears. A Burial at Sea parallel story & alternate end. Cover Image by Radiant-Grey on Deviantart, used with permission.
1. Chapter 0: Prologue

His eyes open, the dark clearing only to show him a scene he's witnessed many times before; a lumbering behemoth, a massive drill where it's right hand should be, kneeling before a pair of girls who hugged the monster. Unable to speak, unable to even avert his eyes, he finds himself moving past the trio through a strange laboratory, beakers, microscopes and hospital beds all along his path. White and black tile clacking beneath his feet as he goes, his vision fades as he comes to a switch, the monster and girls passing by in the adjacent corridor. As the darkness surrounds him, he feels his heart pounding in his chest, the only measure to mark the passage of time.

He finds himself standing in a room several hundred beats later, a man in a surgeons coat impaled to a table, the massive drill from before now buried in the doctor's back. The monster is there as well, once again hugging the little girls. He holds a piece of paper with a hand not his own, this hand, the nails cracked, dirty overall, belonging to a young woman. His vision fades again, despite his trying to keep his eyes open. He doesn't want to see what comes next.

When his eyes open again, he, rather, the young woman stands before a group of men, all but the leader and two of his cronies masked, what he can see beneath turning his stomach. His eyes are drawn to a strange girl being held by one of the men, her skin a deathly pallor and eyes completely gray, struggling to get free.

They stand before a glass wall overlooking a city beneath the sea, explosions rocking the ground, a 'Happy New Year 1959' sign visible. She speaks with them, but the words are silent to him this time, and she hands the lead man a piece of paper.

"No… I don't want to see this… not again!" He screams with his mind, knowing what's to come and unable to stop it.

Pain explodes in his skull like a stick of dynamite, he/she falling, both of them barely able to make out the wrench that struck them.

The girl has a vision, he barely able to make out a mirror, the young woman staring into it. She changes in the mirror, the reflection speaking to her, until finally she appears as he knows she looks like now; black hair, wavy and long, black skirt, ruby red lips, her white top ripped, blood splattered on it and her face. He's seen this before, but never at this point in the nightmare. It almost feels as if she's speaking to him. Her vision continues, walking down an aisle of seats, towards a man in a white sweater smoking a cigarette.

Both return to the present in pain, the man with the wrench standing over them, yelling and waving the paper before her angrily. She must have told him what he wanted, for he straightened and turned to say something to his men.

"No, leave her alone! Stay away from her, you bastard!"

The wrench comes down again, pain once more exploding in his skull, and somehow he knew, like always, it was fatal. Through the pain he feels it again, just as strong as the first time; gut-wrenching sorrow, so strong he thought he might die just from it.

The girl's vision returns, back in front of that damned mirror. He watches her vision again, if for no other reason than trying to ignore the pain and heartache. The man in the sweater figured prominently, and she must take great comfort in it. The vision ends, and as their vision clears, the strange girl sits before them, her large, completely gray eyes still sends shudders down his spine. She sings to them, holding the young woman's hand in her tiny fingers and trying to comfort her, bringing them up to caress her cheek. Somehow he feels her smile, and then all is darkness.


	2. Chapter 1: Visions

Booker DeWitt wakes with a shout, cold sweat clinging to him, his pulse racing as he shakes his head, trying to rid himself of the lingering nightmare. Sighing, he rubs his eyes, an eyebrow rising as he finds his fingers coming away wet.

"I must be losing my mind."

Visions have been plaguing Booker's waking life for a year now, and now the nightmares torment him when he sleeps. While the visions are varied, about a flying city, him and a girl, the nightmare is always the same, though each time it gets longer, filling in blanks. Always it ends with him in tears as the girl passes away.

"One week. How long is this going to haunt me?" Sighing, Booker turns his head to the window, enjoying the late afternoon breeze as he runs his fingers through his hair. The girl in the visions is the same as the one in his nightmare, and the sorrow he felt whenever she was struck down nagged at him, a question beginning to occupy his thoughts.

"Who is she?"

Shaking his head, Booker pushes himself up from his desk, trying to clear his head, "Maybe I just need a job, something to keep me busy." Not a single client had come to DeWitt Investigations in a week, the same time the nightmares had started, and as he looks about the empty office, another sigh escapes him.

He'd thrown out all the alcohol, race tickets and card a long time ago, but otherwise the office looked as rundown as it did a year ago. His bed still lay in the corner; his daughter's crib still stands in the only other room in the apartment. Scratching his head, Booker moves to check on Anna, asleep in the other room.

His fingers were just encircling the doorknob when a knock comes from the front door, startling him, a voice sounding from the other side, "Mr. DeWitt."

"It's open." The words were out of his mouth before he knew it, the voice outside somehow familiar. No sooner had the door opened than Booker wondered if he was going to regret this.

"Mr. DeWitt." The man darkening his doorway spoke, his voice and speech very prim and proper, "You and I have much to discuss." He wears a pale yellow-brown jacket, his right hand in the pocket of his brown trousers, the left behind his back.

Looking the stranger up and down, trying to shake the sense of déjà vu as he assessed the man, Booker steps away from Anna's room, moving to stand in front of his desk, "What would a gentleman like yourself have to discuss with me? And call me Booker."

"Someone needs your help, Mr. DeWitt, someone only you can help." The red-haired stranger removes his hand from his right pocket, revealing a small cameo brooch and a long, tattered strip of blue fabric, like a long ribbon.

"Alright… let's talk business, Mr...?" Booker takes a step towards the oddly familiar stranger, but his eyes are drawn to what he holds instead.

"Lutece. You seem oddly fascinated by these trinkets, Mr. DeWitt. Have you seen these before?" A touch of a smile tugs at Lutece's features, Booker shaking his head half-heartedly, "Are you certain? You haven't been having visions of another life, another world… high above the clouds? About… a girl?"

"How the hell do you know that?" Lutece's words bring Booker out of his reverie, suspicion tinging his voice.

"Because they happened, to someone who is you, and yet not you. The visions and the nightmare, all came to pass." He nods slightly as Booker's breath catches in his throat at the mention of the nightmare coming to pass. Lutece turns over the brooch, a figure of a bird on its silver surface. "The bird, or the cage, Mr. DeWitt?"

Visions flood Booker's thoughts, drowning his consciousness as the events of another life play out before him, far clearer than those that came before.

"Not visions, memories." The words were spoken in his voice, but he did not speak them. He sees Columbia, high in the clouds, the people, fire coming to his fingers as if by magic, Monument Island, and finally, the girl.

"Elizabeth…"

"She's important to you." Lutece's voice pierces the clamor of memories.

"Yes…" Booker didn't know why, but from the pain and grief he felt in the nightmare, he knew it to be true. He'd felt something missing this past year, something he couldn't recall, something that left him feeling lonesome.

"As I said, your nightmare has already come to pass, but…" That gets Booker's attention, "History can be rewritten. Power such as hers does not simply disappear. It lingers, for now, giving us an opportunity, an opportunity to finally set things right. If you would save her, I will help you." Lutece turns away, his voice quiet as if speaking to no one, "What price will you pay to set her free?"

Booker stares at Lutece, "But… but I have a daughter, Anna. She's not even two."

"I understand, but I believe you've asked your neighbor to look after her before, yes? An elderly woman, if I'm not mistaken. Rest assured, you shouldn't be gone so long that Anna will be put in jeopardy." From behind his back, Lutece withdraws a curved metal plate, circuitry poking out the sides, lights blinking from inside and a thin metal rod sticking straight out one end. A single button adorns the outer surface, the whole device looking as if it could fit on his forearm.

"The memories of the other life will come in time. Sadly, I cannot send you to her directly, but I will try to lead you in the right direction. This Tear Device will attune you to the Tears, letting you see them, as well as protecting you from the initial shock, though… that may not be necessary."

Booker barely hears him, the memories not quite settled in his mind, and finds himself with the Tear Device strapped to his arm, Lutece handing him a brown satchel. Rubbing his eyes again, Booker peers at Lutece, trying to figure out his angle in all this. "Alright, Lutece, I'll do it."

He must have expected resistance, surprise registering on Lutece's face. "…Well, that was fairly painless. I never thought you'd come along so willingly."

"I don't have all the pieces yet, but I do know I need to find her. Somehow, she's… important, special to me. I can't just… go on, knowing what will happen to her…" Reaching for the brooch and fabric, Booker runs his thumb over the bird and fabric, both stirring feelings but nothing clear.

"I remember… a debt to be repaid, a promise, and… something else."

"Good… I must insist you make haste. The power she left behind… the remnants that allow this Tear Device to operate is dissipating, and once gone, you will be trapped wherever and whenever you are. Also, her actions are integral to the timeline, interfering too early will destabilize everything, the Tears included."

"So don't step in too early." Nodding, slipping the satchel over his shoulder, Booker steps out after retrieving his revolver, "I'll need a minute, Ms. Pearl loves to chat…"

Ten minutes later, Booker steps back into the office, a homemade blanket in hand. "She has a lot of time on her hands…" Seeing the amused expression on Lutece's face, Booker sighs, instead turning to check on Anna.

A smile brightens Booker's mood as he steps into his daughter's room, leaning over her crib. "Anna," Booker whispers to his daughter as he covers her with the blanket, still sound asleep, "your dad needs to go, but I'll be back soon. I love you, sweetheart." He kisses her on the forehead before stepping away, she stirring in her sleep as he does. A fragment of memory stirs, slowing his feet as he leaves, Booker dismissing it as part of the confusion.

Closing the door behind him, Booker turns to Lutece, "So you were saying not to step in too early?"

"And don't interfere in any of the events you are about to witness." Lutece added, leading Booker out of his office, a Tear waiting outside, "There's a pocket watch in your supplies, should you find yourself losing time."

Thinking back to the memories, of Columbia, being chased by the Founders, breaking into Monument Tower, meeting Elizabeth… her dancing on the pier after escaping Songbird. Booker's throat tightens as he remembers her.

He vaguely hears Lutece promise he won't be long and that Anna will be safe and sound when he returns. Pocketing the brooch and tattered cloth as the Tear opens, Booker steps through.


	3. Chapter 2: To Rapture

Stepping out of the Tear, the confusion left in the memories' wake clearing as he does, Booker looks around, the sense of déjà vu returning.

"Huh…" He stands in his office, the name DeWitt Investigations plainly visible on the door. The office is almost identical to the one he just left, except for a few key differences; the windows behind the desk replaced by a bulkhead, everything having a distinctly darker look to it, and that the office had been trashed.

"Well, I guess this me had a harder time of it." Striding to the door, Booker stops just as he grasps the knob, his mind finally registering what he'd agreed to; he'd accepted a job to save someone he didn't know save for some strange memories that weren't even his own, from another person of the same dubious connection.

"What the hell was I thinking…?" Booker turns back to the Tear, thoughts of returning home taking root in his mind, a scowl on his face. "Wait…"

With each step, he finds himself slowing, thoughts turning from the comfort of home to the memories, and the nightmare. Remembering the visions, dredging up the emotions they evoke, Booker can only stop and sigh, turning his back on the Tear.

A chuckle replaces Booker's scowl with a smirk, "Heh… I guess she really is important to me… I'd never forgive myself if I abandoned her…" Taking a deep breath and reaching for his revolver, Booker steps out into the new world.

* * *

><p>"That… that's not something you see every day." Booker's gaze follows a whale swimming past the glass separating him from the sea, and as it continues on he can only stare in disbelief at where he is; a city under the sea, even after seeing Columbia, struck him as ridiculous.<p>

Rubble and trash littered the plaza below, tarnishing the polished stone, wood and cement floor, the architecture all flowing lines and cold metal. A bronze relief of a man stared back at him, words emblazoned on a stylized red banner, "No gods or kings, only man, huh?"

"Well, one crazy city beneath the waves isn't much different than one above the clouds…" Leaving the door half-open, Booker steps to the railing, looking out onto the plaza. He wasn't anywhere from his nightmare, but he couldn't shake the feeling Elizabeth had been here. "Maybe she was looking for this Booker? But… guh!"

His vision shimmers and blurs, Booker slamming his hands on the railing for support. He feels something wet on his upper lip. Touching two fingers to it, they come away bloody, more trickling from his nose.

"Who's there?" Booker ducks behind the railing as a harsh screech comes from the floor below, carefully peeking over the side, his head still throbbing. At least his vision was clearing.

"What in the hell… what happened to them?"

Two misshapen men, one wearing a box on his head, stand below, a flask of glowing yellow liquid resting between them. Both heard Booker's door slam, both charging for the stairs, screaming and swinging metal pipes with their disfigured hands.

"Whoa buddy, I don't want any trouble…" Booker raises his hands while backing up, trying to calm the crazed men.

"Die!" Booker barely dodges, the pipe whistling past his ear as he sidesteps the charge. He catches a glimpse of burnt, malformed skin and a few rotting, crooked teeth in a gaping maw, the receding gums making them look like fangs. A stench like a week-old corpse assaults him.

"Bad idea, fella." Revolver clears holster, the report echoing in the empty promenade, Booker's first kill in Rapture falling to the floor silently. The second falters for a moment as Booker turns his attention on him. This one wears half a mask, the face that wasn't hidden looking puffed up, like he had a run-in with a swarm of bees. Scraggly patches of hair do little to cover his head, Booker thankful he didn't have to smell this one. The lunatic screams and charges, Booker letting out a breath before pulling the trigger.

"What the hell happened to the two of you?" Booker kneels to inspect the crazed men, "Whatever's going on down here, it's just as twisted as in Columbia."

"They're called Splicers." Booker spins around, bringing his gun up until he recognizes the speaker.

"Lutece." The redhead nods as Booker continues, "What do you mean 'Splicers'?"

"The citizens of Rapture use a substance called Adam to rewrite their genetic structures," Lutece chuckles at the blank look forming on Booker's face, "it allows them to acquire abilities, much like the Vigors in Columbia. Splicers became addicted to Plasmids, this world's Vigors, and have gone insane."

"They're easy enough to put down…" Booker mutters, wiping the blood from his nose and checking the revolver out of habit, "Four left… damn, should have brought extra."

"Hopefully you won't be forced to contend with anything worse. Regardless, the Infusion down there," Lutece motions to the flask, "will certainly be helpful in a pinch. I suggest you take it, then take the elevator up to High Street and find a place called 'Cohen's'. I believe the next Tear is in or near that establishment."

"Fine, but can't you…" Looking up again, Booker finds Lutece already gone, "Guess I'll just figure it out as I go."

Dropping down to the plaza, Booker retrieves the flask, 'Infusion' Lutece called it, déjà vu nagging at his thoughts. "Hmph, might as well get it over with." Downing the fluid, Booker braces himself.

At first, nothing. "Did I just dr-grk!" Pain flares up from nowhere, veins of golden energy running beneath his skin, and then it is gone, a thin sheen of energy appearing, like a second skin.

"What the hell was that?" Panting hard Booker looks himself over, finding nothing out of place. A memory stirs, and Booker can't help smirking, "A shield, huh?"

Rather than continuing on, Booker kneels and slips off the satchel, stopping for a moment as he notices the 'Rapture Tribune' newspapers beneath his other self's office. "Nah, they're probably months old… alright, let's see just what he hid in here…" From the satchel he draws three objects: a silver pocket watch; a packet of black-and-white photographs; and a small stack of cash, twenty-five Silver Eagles and dollar bills each.

"Hmph, at least this'll help some." Pocketing the bills, Booker turns his attention to the watch and popping it open, the hands reading 3:05. "What's this…?" The inside of the watch bears an etching, the same design as the brooch, that of a bird.

Shaking his head with a smile, Booker turns his attention to the photos, the first showing Elizabeth and this world's Booker where he knelt, the next of the approaching Cohen's. Something bothered him about the other Booker; his hair was white and face weathered, but something in his eyes looked… off. The pictures tell the story before his nightmare, the final piece showing the other Booker being run through by a mining drill, Elizabeth looking on with hate in her eyes.

"Comstock…" Booker spat the name, gritting his teeth, "That bastard. He took my name, my face… how the hell did he do that? And Elizabeth… she put him down. Good." He felt the headache again, unfamiliar memories appearing, none making sense.

Shaking off the headache of two sets of memories in his head, Booker cautiously searches for the elevator Lutece mentioned, slipping down the street past abandoned stores, sounds of Splicers within forcing him to find cover.

"This place must have been something before all hell broke loose…" Booker thought as he hid behind a bench. Imagining the lights still working, the street cleared of rubble and trash, Booker chuckles as he imagines visiting the establishments with Elizabeth. Then he realizes it's a memory he's thinking on, not his imagination. He shudders, thinking of Comstock, what he could have been doing here.

He lets out a sigh of relief upon finding the promised elevator, no Splicers or whatever was 'worse' threatening him. Hitting the button once safely inside, Booker leans against the metal wall, retrieving the pocket watch. "3:30… took almost half an hour to get here? Damn." His groan slips through the door as the elevator opens up to a rundown restaurant.

"Of course, it's never that easy…" High Street is massive, and though just as vandalized as Market Street below, still holds a degree of opulence. The source of his consternation, however, is much closer; to the left of the restaurant's exit lays Cohen's, a mob Splicers wearing rabbit masks barring his path.

"How the hell am I supposed to get through that?" Peering around the corner, Booker curses, "Dammit, Lutece. Now would be a good time to show up and 'guide'! How am I supposed to-"

"Welcome, you chosen, you visionaries who appreciate the mastery of Sander Cohen!"

The entrance to Cohen's flies open, another Splicer stepping out, wearing a tuxedo and a golden rabbit mask, arms held wide in welcome.

"Who among you wishes to enter my abode, hmm? Who is worthy enough to witness what I, the master, has wrought?" The mob of Splicers cower before Cohen, partly in supplication and partly in fear, all speaking in hushed voices, seeking his favor.

"No, no, who has the fortitude enough to come forth, without fear, and declare their intent to see my masterpiece?" Cohen spun about, clearly enjoying the mob's adulation, "Certainly not you cowering wretches. Perhaps… the one slinking in the shadows has more spine than he's showing?"

Cohen's gaze turns directly to Booker, the crowd of Splicers following suit. A bead of sweat rolls down Booker's face, barely able to breathe as the Splicers stare back at him, the mob slowly standing, gripping makeshift weapons tightly.

"I-I wish to enter your domain!" Stepping out from the restaurant, plainly visible now, Booker holds his breath, hoping the mad artist would respond favorably.

"Now this is a surprise." In a burst of red smoke, Cohen vanishes, reappearing before Booker in like manner, "Last we met was some time ago. You looked much older, your hair much, much grayer," Cohen emphasizes the 'much' greatly, drawing it out, "how is it you come to me now, a much, much, MUCH, younger man than before, Mr. DeWitt?"

Booker's eyes widen in panic, the breath he held escaping; he had no answer for Cohen, no knowledge of what this world's Booker did, and he could already see the spark of perverse curiosity forming in Cohen's eyes. Curiosity that was certain to lead to wild, sociopathic whims. The Splicing probably didn't help any.

"Well, no matter." Cohen's declaration catching Booker by surprise, he almost coughs on the artist, "You intrigue me, Mr. DeWitt, and that alone is worth the price of admission. You may join me for the first viewing of my masterpiece."

With a dramatic flourish, Cohen spun about on his heels, marching back to the entrance, the Splicers parting before him as he passes.

"Well, I can't pass that up, can I?" Breathing a sigh of relief, Booker cautiously follows Cohen through the Splicers, and into the club.

Inside, passing through a series of empty white rooms, Booker steps into the tall, circular shaped main room of the club, a mass of plaster-like bodies sits illuminated by spotlights, forming a tower of grotesque design rising high above. The center of the tower is made up of intertwined bodies, men and women, young and old. The periphery has bodies posing in graceful positions, each row up in a different pose.

"They look almost alive…" Booker must have breathed the words aloud, for Cohen chuckled.

"Of course, I am the master, after all."

As Booker's gaze climbs the twisted monstrosity, the wavering, flickering form of a Tear atop the tower greets him, visible to his eyes only.

"So, Mr. DeWitt, what do you think of this, my masterpiece, this edifice to my genius?"

"It's… unique…" Glancing at Cohen, Booker knew he needed something more, some reason to approach the tower, and to appease this lunatic's ego, "Magnificent, even. But… I imagine that a towering marvel such as this would have something extraordinary at the top."

At first, Cohen remains silent, showing nothing. But a wry smile soon tugs at his lips, "You have a keen insight into the mind of the artist. Come, let me reveal the jewel you seek."

Following Cohen up a winding staircase that encircles the room, one the darkness hid until he stepped up to it, Booker finds his gaze fixed on the tower. The bodies look so lifelike, it feels uncanny. So absorbed and horrified by the tower, Booker nearly runs into Cohen as he comes to a stop.

"Here we are, the crown jewel of my masterpiece." Self-satisfaction evident in his voice, Cohen turns to Booker, a crazed grin distorting his already disturbing face.

Booker feels his heart seize up as he lays eyes on what stands before the Tear. Elizabeth's form, eyes closed, kneeling with hands pressed together in prayer, sits atop a dais of bodies, nude like the rest. His heart beats again as he notices she isn't as detailed as the rest.

"She's beautiful, but… that's not the genuine article, right?"

"Sadly, yes. The real one died some time ago, her beautiful corpse irretrievable." Booker shudders as Cohen confirms his suspicions about the rest of his 'masterpiece'. "Now, Mr. DeWitt, I think you and I could make something truly unique together."

"Mr. Cohen," Booker slowly glances at Cohen, ready to move, "I am many things, even been called a 'roguish-type' once, but an artist is not one of them. Especially not your kind of… artist. I'll be taking my leave of you now."

"Oh, you can't –No!" Cohen shouts in dismay as Booker leaps, toppling the plaster Elizabeth and ripping the Tear open as he goes. Before Cohen can act, Booker is gone.


	4. Chapter 3: Sorrow and Resolve

Dropping out of the Tear, Booker lands on a stack of crates high above a dimly lit wharf, the stench of rotting fish assaulting his nose. Down below, he sees Splicers milling about on piers and mud, everything dampened by the pervasive wetness and the gray-blue light that suffused the wharf. Behind him at least looked dry and lit, though a persistent drip from a pipe overhead had made a small puddle.

"Alright, Lutece, where's the next – grk!" Pain like white hot pokers stabbing the back of his eyes drops Booker to his knees, visions, nightmares and memories rushing through his mind, each intensifying the pain until he can bear it no more, collapsing on the rotting wood.

* * *

><p>Unconscious, Booker bears witness to more of his other self's journey. He sees Elizabeth, dancing on the pier at Battleship Bay, how happy she looks to be free. He remembers the trap as they tried to board the First Lady, Elizabeth's shock at the violence he committed, and her anger at his betrayal. Then he sees the Vox Populi and Daisy Fitzroy, him chasing after Elizabeth through Fink's, travelling through Tears, Elizabeth running a bloodthirsty Daisy through with a pair of scissors, and finally her wearing a blue dress, her hair cut short.<p>

* * *

><p>The sound of machine gun fire pulls him back to the waking world, Booker groggily rolling onto his stomach and peering below. A man in a dirty white sweater fights a monstrous creature in a diving suit, different from the one in his nightmare but similar enough. The man's submachine gun fire barely hurts the beast as he scrambles about to avoid the monster's rivet gun fire.<p>

"It's him." Booker remembers the vision Elizabeth had, the man she saw having the same hair, the same sweater as the man below. He then remembers Lutece's warning. "Don't interfere, huh?"

And just like that, the fight comes to an end; coils of electricity jump from the man's hand, stunning the beast and allowing him to pour round after round into its head. As it falls, the only sound that breaks the silence is the distorted sobbing of a little girl, a girl that looks much like the one in his nightmare.

"No! No, no!"

Every paternal fiber in his body screams for him to interfere as the man picks up the little girl, struggling and screaming.

"You must not interfere." Booker nearly falls off the crate as he tries to turn, the voice of his guide catching him off guard. "She'll be fine, he won't harm her. Elizabeth's sacrifice allows him to save the Little Sisters, so long as events aren't changed by your presence. Take a look."

Turning back to the scene below, Booker breathes a sigh of relief as he sees the girl, now normal looking, scamper off to a vent and climb in. "Well, Lutece, at least you showed up in time. I'd have broken my leg, jumping down there like a damned fool…"

"Most certainly, and that would be a most disappointing end to your journey. I wouldn't have time to recruit another you… even if there was another as suited as you."

"As suited as me? What the hell are you talking about, Lutece?"

Lutece simply stops, staring back at Booker in disbelief. "The visions. Surely you understand they are part of it. You are the only Booker DeWitt to have these visions, the only one with so strong a connection to her."

The only one? Booker shrugs, scratching his head. Whatever the reason, he still has a job to do. Lutece only nods at the strange look Booker gives him.

"Have you recovered all of your memories yet? Do you know who she is?"

Lutece sighs as Booker shakes his head, "Pity." He turns towards a vending machine, "There is a Plasmid waiting for you, when you have it, return and go to the Wharfmaster's Office." He nods at a locked gate, "You might find a wrench or other tool helpful."

"Why don't you just tell me why I'm here? Who is she, and what's your game?"

Shaking his head, Lutece turns away, "That you will have to discover on your own." With that, Lutece disappears around the corner, leaving Booker on his own.

Turning to his task, Booker stops; the puddle from before was now a pool. Scrambling for the pocket watch, Booker groans, "4:05. It couldn't have taken more than ten to deal with Cohen… I've been out for a good twenty or so minutes… how was I not found by Splicers?"

A sigh escapes him as he trudges over to the vending machine, raising an eyebrow as he spies the purple bottle of the Plasmid, a figure of a man riding a stylized lightning bolt like a horse for a cap. "Huh… Shock Jockey? How the… how's there a Vigor in Rapture?" Drinking the glowing purple liquid, Booker raises his left hand, waiting for it to kick in.

First, it starts as an itching, a tingle between his fingers. "Holy hell." Coils of electricity dance between his fingers, jet black shards of obsidian grow from his skin before disappearing, the power similar to what the man had used against the monster.

"No! It's mine!"

Instinctually, Booker ducks, seeking cover as a hook buries itself in the casing of the vending machine, just above his head. Spinning around to face his attacker, Booker draws his revolver as he goes.

"…Get down here you crawly bastard!" Slipping around the corner, squeezing off a return shot as another pair of hooks barely miss him, Booker looks again at his attacker, unsure if he saw it right.

A masked man crawls upside down along the roof, both hands holding hooks. "It's mine! Give it back!" The crazed Splicer throws another pair of hooks as it screams, digging them into the metal of the Gene Bank.

"Now's a good a time as any I suppose…!" Dashing out from behind cover, raising his left hand as he did, Booker calls on the Plasmid, "Eat this you freak!"

Bolts of electricity fly from his palm, striking the roof crawler and dropping it to the ground, its body spasming as the electricity courses through its body.

Charging the fallen Splicer, Booker brings the revolver to bear, the report of the weapon silencing the Splicer's screams. Kneeling, Booker can only stare at the creature, unable to comprehend how it could end up like this; the Splicer's limbs look a little too long to be natural, the paper mask failing to hide a face heavily distorted and worn, almost looking like someone took a cheese grater to it. "Lutece was right. This… this is worse… what else is down here?" A sigh escapes him as he stands.

"Suppose I should go find something for the chain…" Creeping slowly through the dimly lit wharf, Booker makes his way towards some stairs, all other paths barred, keeping well clear of another monster and Little Sister. He only pauses to stare in horror as the Little Sister harvests a Splicer's corpse, tearing his gaze away as the monster turns in his direction, putting the grisly sight behind him. A shudder runs down his spine as he makes it downstairs.

"That settles it… this place is just as bad as Columbia… why the hell did Elizabeth come here?"

Shouts and gunfire break the silence, coming from past a sign labeled Fontaine's Fisheries and drawing closer. 'You must not interfere…' came Lutece's warning again, Booker sighing and holstering his revolver. "The way forward is blocked," Booker thinks back to the chained gate barring the way to the Wharftmaster's office, "No cover that way… hmm…" Glancing at the frigid water beneath the pier, dank and murky, Booker sighs again, removing his satchel and weapon, hiding them as best he can.

"Here goes nothing…" Taking a deep breath, Booker slides into the filthy water, the cold chilling him to the bone as he slips beneath the pier.

Creaking and sagging, the sounds of boots striking wood, shadows cast through the spaces between planks shows the progress of the man, Booker counting each passing second silently to keep his mind off the cold, his hands clenched tightly around the pocket watch. The man stops directly above Booker's hiding spot, boards shifting this way and that as he looks around.

"Don't find me, don't find me…" The thought races through Booker's mind, holding his breath and only releasing it slowly as the man moves on. Only when the sounds completely disappear does Booker allow himself a sigh of relief, his breathing slowly returning to normal. "F-four-oh-eight…" His teeth chatter as he mutters the time to himself.

"I'm lost in this madhouse, cold, wet, surrounded by murderous lunatics, chasing after a girl I don't really know, and now to top it all off I'm getting hungry…" His stomach rumbles as he slips out of hiding, grumbling while pulling himself out of the water, "I'm going to shake the answers out of Lutece the moment he shows up again."

All grumbling stops once back upstairs; the gate stands open, sounds of gunfire echoing from up ahead. "Something tells me this guy and I have a few things in common." A smile brightens Booker's mood as he makes to follow.

Following the trail of the increasingly strange man, Booker finds himself among many dead Splicers, a scene of bloody battle. Most had been picked clean, but one in the corner catches his eye; hanging from a strap around the Splicer's neck is what looks like a repeater, letters carved into the wooden stack reading, 'Thompson'.

"What's this, a drum clip?" Retrieving the repeater, looking it over, Booker grins again, glad to have a resupply; his revolver has all of two rounds left.

Footsteps. Scrambling behind a pillar, Booker catches sight of the man again, now carrying a camera and hurrying back the way he came.

"Too close." Breathing another sigh of relief, Booker waits until the coast is clear again before cautiously continuing on, the way clear of Splicers thanks to the man in the sweater.

As he approaches the Wharftmaster's office, Booker can almost hear Elizabeth's voice, as if from a memory. Her voice causes a grin to tug at his features, Booker wondering why he was thinking of her now, until he heard her voice again, "Wait… that's not…" Not memories, but pieces of a conversation, the words muffled but getting louder as he draws nearer to the office.

"Just give me the girl…" Elizabeth's voice comes through clearly as Booker reaches the Tear, fading away in an instant, her words chilling him to his very core, surer than the icy waters had. He knows that line, when she said it, and the torture that follows.

"I'm coming, Elizabeth…" Booker whispers as he opens the Tear, stepping through without hesitation. Remembering what happened after the last Tear, Booker screws his eyes shut, bracing for what may come.

* * *

><p>Seconds pass. Then ten. Twenty. Booker opens his eyes, no rush of memories greeting him, but a pair of familiar faces instead. A poster stares back at him, Elizabeth and Cohen singing into a microphone. The description below draws a chuckle from Booker despite his situation.<p>

"Songbird. She must have found that ironic."

Booker recognized a dancing lounge when he saw one, and the once lavish, now dilapidated room he stands in looked like a pricy one, the high vaulted ceilings and floor-to-ceiling view of the ocean setting a pleasant mood. He stood on a raised wooden platform, several stage lights beaming down on him, the rest of the floor covered in water from a broken pipe. A sign beyond the glass, red lights illuminating it, read 'Manta Ray Lounge'. Two glass doors lead out of the room, both open, the main lounge empty save for him.

"Not empty." Peering out a door, his eyes narrow as he sees an unconscious Splicer, a bump formed on the back of his head, Booker quickly retreating into the dance room.

"Whoa!" His foot catching on something, Booker falls with a shout, landing on his back, the breath forced from his lungs. "Dammit," pushing up on his elbows, cursing at whatever he was tangled on, Booker searched for the offending object, "get off my leg you…"

He falls silent as his gaze found three metal prongs, one partially caught in his pants leg, stirring memories of their own. "Sky-Hook…" The weapon fits his hand just as he remembers, the design decidedly different from the one Elizabeth had, Booker absentmindedly noting the Tear Device fits right between the metal protecting his forearm.

He and Elizabeth had ridden the Sky-Lines together, the memory of her excitement the first time drawing a smile from the very weary Booker. "Lutece must have known I'd find a Sky-Hook, or left it here," turning his attention to the Tear Device, Booker shakes his head, "it's too much of a coincidence, fitting like this."

"_See the Pyramids alooong the Nile…"_

Booker stops in his tracks, Elizabeth's voice catching his ear. He knows the sound of her voice, but only from snippets of conversation in visions and nightmares, nothing like this. Her voice comes from a radio in the far corner of the lounge, her voice haunting and sad, drawing him closer.

_"I'll be so alone without you… maybe you'll be lonesome too…"_

Standing transfixed before the radio, Elizabeth's beautiful voice stirs something inside of Booker, the sorrow in her voice tugging at his heart. Her music almost feels like magic.

_"Just remember, till you're home aaagain… you belong… to meeee…"_

Her voice fading, Booker finds he is free of the spell that held him, only an ache in his chest left of the entire episode. Looking again at the poster of Elizabeth, Booker has to take a seat, the ache refusing to disappear. In the midst of the pain, a memory comes to him, of Elizabeth singing while he plays a guitar. Time seems to slow as the melody plays in his memory, Booker losing himself in that moment, just him and the girl. When he opens his eyes again, the ache is still there, but better.

"… Will the circle… be unbroken…?" Shaking off the song's effects, Booker rises as he mumbles the line from the memory. "Why… why can I imagine that she's only ever had loneliness and suffering?" The thought causes him to shudder as he steps away from the radio, sparing it a glance as he goes.

Stepping out of the lounge, Booker quickly ducks behind a railing; the plaza below is filled with Splicers and another monstrosity, this one exactly like the one in his nightmare, roams the area, the Splicers giving it a wide berth.

"Lutece, now would be a good time for you to show up."

Silence. Booker waits, looking around for his elusive guide. A guide who doesn't show.

"Son of a…" Cursing silently, he sneaks down a spiraling staircase and along the wall, the darkness of the plaza helping despite weariness making his limbs leaden. He constantly moves to avoid the Splicers, slipping into the first door he finds. Passing through a display area, Booker finds an elevator open.

"… At least I can hide in here until Lutece shows up." Stepping in, a single button sits on the console, the doors refusing to close behind him as he waits. "Hmph, fine. Up we go." Doors slide shut once he hits the button, the elevator rising quickly and opening up to a glass passage, a tunnel through the water.

"Can't I get a break?" Already sitting on the floor with back to the wall, Booker rests his head against the cool glass and metal, closing his eyes. When he opens them again, the doors remain open, drawing an irritated groan. "Alright, I get it… no rest for the weary, huh?" Picking himself up, Booker staggers down the tunnel, somehow feeling a bit better.

The passage opens up into a common area, faint blue light from above dimly lighting the surroundings as water drips from overhead. Two distinctly different establishments greet Booker, the brightly lit red sign of one in sharp contrast to the dim, flickering blue of the other. "Ryan the Lion Preparatory Academy… a school, alright… and Cupid's Arrow… an… adult bookstore next to a school…" Standing before the school and 'bookstore', the idiocy of having the two together drawing a sigh of exasperation, Booker makes his choice. "I… suppose Cupid's Arrow might have some pillows…" He makes for the door bathed in red light, a sense of something drawing him onward in the back of his mind.

Inside, like the lounge before the store is strangely empty, all the doors unlocked, even to a room obviously meant for peepshows. Everything had been picked clean, even more so than usual for Rapture and Splicers. Rows of adult literature line the walls, Booker again shaking his head at the placement of the establishment.

"Wait… this place… I've seen it before." Stepping into the peep room, Booker turns his attention to the table, littered with empty Plasmid bottles, a scene from his nightmare returning.

Lifting a bottle, Booker's mind clicks into place, "She was here…" Turning quickly, Booker sprints to the back, a sense of something drawing him forward growing in his gut, stronger with each step.

There, alone in an empty dressing room, stands Elizabeth's blue dress. Stepping closer, he could almost hear her voice, as if an echo, "… after I came through… something to wear that was a little more Rapture…"

Shaking his head, trying to clear the phantom voices, Booker reaches for the dress as they fade, running his fingers over the fabric, "This was… is hers. Elizabeth's… after Fitzroy…" A faint memory returns, of seeing her in it for the first time, the feelings it awakens bringing life back to his weary body.

"Just hold on, Elizabeth, I'm coming." Stripping the dress dummy bare and packing the dress into his satchel, Booker turns back, striding to the elevator and returning to the lower level, his resolve returned.

Stepping out of the elevator, something catches Booker's eye, a familiar face causing him to falter and stop in his tracks. A poster of the man with the wrench stares back at him, plastered on a barrel, Booker feeling a cold knot in the pit of his stomach as the final moments of the nightmare flash before his eyes.

"Atlas," reading the name on the poster, Booker stumbles away, remembering the nightmare and all the pain and sorrow it evokes, "now I know your name, bastard." Anger surges within him as Booker turns away, forcing his mind from Atlas to Elizabeth. Thinking of her calms him, driving him forward, past the image of the man he was starting to hate as much as Comstock.

Checking his revolver and repeater as he makes his way back to the lounge, his mind still on memories of the girl, Booker nearly misses catching sight of a certain someone as she makes her way across the plaza.

"Eliza-mmph…!" Catching himself, Booker clamps a hand over his mouth, ducking behind a pillar as thoughts of Lutece's warning echo in his mind, warring with the urge to intervene.

"I can save her now…" Crouching behind the pillar, Booker groans, knowing why he can't but desperately wanting to anyway, "She'll help save the Little Sisters, and if I make a mess of things, she'll never forgive me…"

Growling as he stands, a measure of the weariness returning, Booker rubs his temple with the revolver's barrel. "This isn't where she dies, I still have time… and knowing her and Lutece, getting in the way now will just make things worse. And I don't want to end up on the wrong side of her temper." He mutters the last with a laugh, taking off to follow her. The least he could do was watch over her for now.

Moving from cover to cover, Booker kept as far from Elizabeth as possible, knowing how perceptive she could be. She stopped in front of a restaurant before moving on, Booker stopping a moment to read the sign. "Silver Fin… so that's where we're going, huh?" Sighing, fragments of the nightmare centered on the restaurant coming unbidden, Booker turns in time to see Elizabeth disappear into a maintenance room.

Stepping up to the door, Booker raises an eyebrow as he hears something heavy scrapping along the floor. "This could take some time… or not?" The scrapping fades, replaced by a grunt before silence takes hold. Taking a deep breath, Booker cracks the door.

Inside the maintenance room, Booker couldn't help smiling; a large cabinet had been pushed aside to reveal a vent, the sounds of Elizabeth crawling around inside faintly audible. "I could get a cheap scare out of this… no, they'll both kill me for acting like a damn fool." Shaking his head and chuckling to himself, Booker waits for the sounds to vanish, checking the watch absentmindedly. "5:10… Anna should be up by now…" A pang of regret draws a frown from Booker; leaving his daughter in someone else's care ever sat right with him.

When the last bump fades, Booker secures his weapons as best he can, reaching into the vent and pulling himself up into it, the tight fit hampering his attempts to remain silent.

"… Because I'll fix your machine, Suchong." Nearing the exit, Booker nearly falls on his face, Elizabeth's voice echoing through the vent. Peering through the grate, he doesn't see her in the reception room, but then she speaks again and Booker let out a breath he didn't know he was holding.

"She's by the door talking to the doctor… whew. Ah, there you are." Pictures of Columbia stare back him, one of his other self, and Booker remembers the Tear sits in the middle of the next room, at the heart of what he somehow knew to be a Lutece Device.

"So that's why Plasmids and Vigors are so similar." Sighing as he realized where he was heading to next, Booker prepares to crawl out of the vent when a voice struck a chord, a voice with no speaker, coming from the Tear.

"Booker, you there? … I miss you. You were the only one who ever… You were my only friend."

And Booker's world spins into darkness.

* * *

><p>The darkness soon gives way, but not to a dream or to visions of his other life. No, not a dream, but a nightmare of things to come.<p>

Booker watches Elizabeth repairing the Lutece Device and stepping through, watches her take a Lutece particle, looking upon the Luteces speaking to Daisy Fitzroy and finally hearing the words again as she sees the other Booker and Elizabeth. "Booker… I miss you… you were my only friend."

* * *

><p>Booker wakes with a shout, still in the air vent. "Ughh…" Rolling over and groaning, Booker rubs his face as he crawls out, not surprised in the least to find a trace of tears.<p>

"Elizabeth… just what are you to me?" Rubbing his eyes, Booker makes for the Tear, feeling haggard but determined.

Suchong's makeshift lab remains completely empty, no displays of Suchong or Ryan, and no unconscious 'sharks'. A smile crept onto Booker's face as he remembers her subduing them one at a time, "That's my girl…"

"Wait, what? Why'd I…?" Confusion grips him, but Booker shakes his head, "I'll find out why soon enough. Even if I have to beat it out of Lutece." Opening the Tear, Booker let himself feel pride for Elizabeth once more before continuing on.


	5. Chapter 4: In Her Footsteps

Stepping out of the Tear, Booker takes a deep breath, memories once vague now vivid as he returns to their source. Elizabeth's dress, the same dress he carried in his bag, stood before him in the center of the room, the fine wood surroundings contrasting the deep blue of the outfit. The lift to the upper level lay to the right, already called. Elizabeth had already been through here.

"The First Lady… we've been through quite a lot, haven't we?" Stepping onto the First Lady's bridge, revolver at the ready, Booker allows himself a bittersweet smile when he finds it empty save for bloody bandages and other signs of medical treatment; so many memories were tied to the First Lady, some good, some not. The fine wood of the cabin, the books on the wall… the stylized statue of Comstock, all of it adding to the feeling of déjà vu he knew all too well by now.

"At least the coast's clear, now maybe I can get something decent to eat…"

"Perhaps, but not right now."

Booker had gotten used to his guide's tendency to pop in and out of existence, but that didn't mean he liked it. "Lutece."

He stands before the Tear, looking as dapper and indifferent as ever, "But of course. Who else would I be?"

"You could be…" Booker glances at Lutece sideways, rubbing his head as he thought back to a particular vision, "Rosalind rather than Robert. Where is your 'sister' anyway?"

Surprise. Booker couldn't help smiling despite himself, thinking the look on Lutece's face priceless. "I see you've progressed quite a bit since last we spoke. You continue to impress, Mr. DeWitt." Carefully stepping to the controls of the First Lady, Lutece continued, staring off into the clouds, "We disagreed on interfering again. Eventually she agreed to keep Elizabeth's remnants stable, so I am alone in guiding you. The experience is… unpleasant."

"I apologize for my absence," Lutece's words catch Booker by surprise, his jaw dropping slightly, "but keeping her power stable requires some… inventiveness, at times, and can be a two person job. By the way, very good making it here on your own."

Lutece produces a pocket watch, looking at it with mild concern, "You will need to make your way to Fink's lab, where Elizabeth found her hair sample. Elizabeth's presence there caused another Tear to form, one I believe will bring you much closer to your journey's end. Mr. DeWitt… have you checked the time recently?"

Booker reaches for his watch, his eyes widening as he sees the hour hand approaching six. "… You weren't kidding about losing time, were you?"

Pocketing the watch, Lutece steps past Booker, "No, I was not. Once you've recovered the memories, I'm fairly sure you won't be blacking out anymore, at the very least." Lutece hesitates, as if unsure he should continue, "Mr. DeWitt… when you were in the lounge, listening to her song… you were reliving something, weren't you?"

Now Booker hesitates, the song and the sorrow behind it all too fresh in his memory, a twinge of heartache returning. Glancing back at Lutece, Booker nods curtly before looking away, scowling slightly as a hint of a smile flashes across his guide's features.

"I wondered what price you would be willing to pay this time," Lutece continues, his voice carrying a touch of satisfaction, the hint of a smile returning, "to set her free from this fate. Now I know. I think you're realizing the answer yourself, aren't you?"

Booker answers Lutece with silence, staring off into the clouds as Lutece had with his hands in his pockets. "I still don't know who she is," Booker mutters to himself, his fingers finding the brooch, "but I won't let her die. I'll tear Rapture down before I let that happen."

Turning to leave, Lutece pauses, "Oh, and take care not to run into this world's Booker or Elizabeth. It's hard enough keeping your presence from disrupting the timeline as is."

Booker speaks up as Lutece makes to move past, "Hold on a minute. I saw you and your sister in the memories. You helped us, and now again. Why? What is Elizabeth to you?"

Lutece remains silent, staring sideways at Booker. When finally he speaks, his voice is quiet, almost somber, "You aren't the only one who owes a debt, Booker."

With that, he disappears, moving beyond Booker's field of vision and gone as Booker turns to follow, so many questions on the tip of his tongue. "Fink. Fantastic."

Stepping off the First Lady, Booker finds his nightmare accurate as he makes his way through Fink's Manufacturing, following Elizabeth's trail easily enough, only stopping when his stomach growls once more. "There should be a Dollar Bill machine somewhere around here… ah there it is… right across from Fink's quarters, of course." A few Silver Eagles and a couple minutes later, Booker returns to his journey, a half-decent hot dog sating his hunger for now.

Stepping up to the door to Fink's quarters, movement catches the corner of Booker's eye; the elevator, rising from below, his eyes widening as he realizes who would be arriving shortly, "Of course… right after he warned me, to boot." Slipping through the doors and swinging them shut, Booker takes a deep breath, counting the seconds before turning to peer through the crack, watching as a squad of Vox arrives just in time to meet the elevator. Watching silently, he looks on as the other Booker and younger Elizabeth fight through the squad, feeling his heart stop in panic as they turn towards him.

Easing the door shut, Booker locks the door behind him and presses his back against the wood, keeping his breathing shallow as he counts the seconds. "Elizabeth might be able to crack this lock, gotta make sure they don't come this way…" The thought of them wandering down this direction and running into 'his' Elizabeth, Booker winces as he imagines the train wreck this could be.

The door knob jiggles, the other Booker trying the door as he remembers he did, Booker holding his breath as he waits for them to leave. "Come on… just get on with it, already." Several heart pounding moments pass until he hears footsteps moving away, Booker releasing the held breath in a relieved sigh.

"Why'd the Tear have to come to this exact moment? Elizabeth must have realized it, as well…" Grunting as he climbed to his feet, Booker continues forward past the giant clock and further into the factory, resuming the path laid out in his nightmare.

Finally, Booker finds himself standing before the golden statue of Fink at the heart of the complex, déjà vu kicking in again. "I should be almost there… wait, what's th-grk!"

His shield absorbs the first hit as a gunshot rings through the building, but the second crashes through and into the soft tissue along his ribs, leaving a searing lance of pain behind. Stumbling behind a pillar, Booker turns to look back at his attacker; a woman in red, sporting the colors of the Vox Populi and a spiked crown stands on the upper level, reloading a revolver not unlike his own.

"Ah hell…"

Gunfire erupts overhead as he leaps over the railing, sprinting for the double doors on the other side of the room the moment he touches down, ducking behind the statue before escaping the room, more Vox arriving in search of the intruder.

"You can't hide from us, Founder!" The voice finds a break in the gunfire, belonging to the woman who first shot him, a lilting Irish accent in stark contrast to the harsh report of rifles and revolvers. The voice brings to mind Atlas, the thought triggering a surge of anger and pain that makes Booker wince.

Running through the hatch marked Quarantine Zone towards Fink's lab, evidence of the Vox revolution becomes readily apparent; bodies litter the floor, some piled up to make space, shattered glass and bullet holes everywhere. Many unconscious but still very much alive Vox rest on cots away from the bodies, Elizabeth's handiwork, no doubt. A Vox steps into his path, turning to see Booker's Sky-Hook rushing at his face and going down in a heap, Booker running past without as much as a second glance.

Glancing behind him as he runs, he lets out a laugh of triumph as he sees none, slowing down a bit… only to skid to a stop. Voices come from farther ahead, through the open hatch he remembered as sealed, a destroyed turret sitting before it. "Too many to run past ahead…" Shouts come from the statue room, the Vox finally in pursuit as Booker racks his memory, "Elizabeth got through here… that way!" He runs at the window, leaping atop the Vox gunship waiting there before jumping up to a freight hook, thankful the Sky-Hook worked as he remembered.

Leaping across the chasm, Booker sprints through the abandoned lab, past the cobwebs and Fink's failed experiments, seeing them in person turning his stomach. "Right about now, Elizabeth's probably exploring the Handyman area… good, this should be easy." Slowing down, Booker ducks beneath a staircase, listening for signs of pursuit as the pale green light colors everything strangely. Waiting for several minutes, Booker rises slowly, the dust of the stairwell swirling as he takes off again. The dimly lit halls, the aging wood and cobwebs look all the same as he runs through, "Come on, come on… where is it… there!"

Flying through the decaying double doors to Fink's lab and slamming it shut behind him, Booker turns to see… nothing. No Tear. No Lutece. No Elizabeth, just a red bottle of a Devil's Kiss Vigor sitting on the desk, said desk now pulled away from the wall. Slowly, dreading what he might see, Booker turns his attention to the Tear Device.

The lights inside do not blink as usual, several dents and a partial puncture on the device telling him exactly what happened. "Come on, not now! Work you piece of…"

Hitting it, cursing his bad luck, Booker almost doesn't hear the rumble of dozens of feet running in his direction. The Tear Device momentarily forgotten, Booker crouches in a corner by the dresser, hopefully hidden if the double doors open.

And opened they were. A woman steps into the lab, revolver up, the weapon moving wherever she looked as she searches for him. "Where'd that Founder bastard go?"

The lilting Irish accent perks up his ears, Booker recognizing the spiked crown she wore. She was the Vox who first shot at him, the one who yelled after him as he fled, and Booker realized the way she was turning, she was about to be looking directly at him.

"Son of a… dammit, here we go!" Charging out of hiding, grabbing her gun while forcing the Sky-Hook against her throat, Booker quickly pushes her against the wall, relieving her of the weapon. "Make any sudden moves and I'll kill you."

The woman stares back at him, the eyes of her mask blazing red, "W-what do ya mean to do with me?" Her voice brings Atlas to mind again, a flash of anger appearing on his face for a moment, Booker gritting his teeth.

"Nothing. Cooperate and I'll let you go, once I find a way to get out of here." Quickly stripping her of ammo, the crown and head covering that came with it, Booker ties her wrists together, sitting her in the corner he had hid in.

"There's no way out, Founder, and I'll die before betraying my comrades." Though she threatened him, her voice remains low, her show of bravado paper thin at best. Glancing at her, Booker sees fear in her eyes, somehow letting him feel relieved; she's no Atlas.

"I'm not a Founder, and I won't need a way out if I can get this goddamn device to work." Speaking while fiddling with the Tear Device, his revolver lying on the table, Booker decides to keep the conversation going, "So what's your name, anyway?"

Looking up from his work when she doesn't answer, Booker finally took a good look at her. Fairly attractive, her pale red hair in a short ponytail, fair skin, blue eyes… eyes reminding him of Elizabeth's, so much so that he almost didn't hear her.

"Abigail."

"Booker." She scoffs at his response, Booker remembering this world's Booker died a Vox martyr. "Not your Booker, but I am Booker DeWitt."

"Right, let's say I believe ya. If you're not a Founder, what are ya here for?" Suspicion still tinging her voice, Abigail watches him intently.

"I need to find someone, someone very dear to me. After that, I'll… no, we'll probably go home to my daughter."

Her face seems to soften as Booker mentions Anna, Abigail watching him silently as he talks about her, in between cursing at the Tear Device. "She's not in Columbia, is she?"

"No. Not a chance in hell. We live in New York… we don't have much, but it's home."

Abigail falls silent again, every time Booker looks up at her she turns away. Finally, she stands, "Here, let me see that." Stepping out of the corner, her hands still tied in front of her, Abigail steps besides Booker, "My Pa was a mechanic down below, taught me all about machines and the like…" .

"… Why are you helping me?" Booker steps aside, his hand moving closer to his revolver. She shakes her head, instead popping open the casing, going to work in silence

She spends the next ten minutes poking at the Tear Device, trying to figure it out as Booker steps away to down the Vigor, the effects on his body just as vivid as he remembered. He relaxes as she works, checking his pocket watch now and then between examining the 'personal effects dresser and watching the door, the number of Songbird sketches and the doll drawing a grimace; he remembered her saying it used to be her only friend, before she realized it was keeping her prisoner.

Thinking of Songbird and Elizabeth, Booker finds the lyrics to her song coming unbidden to her mind. "See the marketplace in old Algiers…" He hums the tune as the lyrics play in his thoughts, the song bringing him equal parts comfort and heartache.

As the melody comes to an end, Booker turns with a smile on his face, only to see Abigail watching him with a curious expression on her face. "Umm…"

A smile of her own appears as she shakes her head, "Don't you mind me." Abigail turns her attention back to the Tear Device, humming the tune as she does.

"Six-ten…" Scratching his head, Booker checks his watch again and muttering the time, sparing a glance back at Abigail, "How much longer…?"

She lets out a quiet 'ha!' as the lights inside blink once more, a smile on her face. "Here ya go, Booker, now go see your little-"

"Abigail, you in…" The doors open as Abigail closes the casing, another Vox gunman standing in the doorway, repeater in hand, "It's the Founder!"

Before he gets the words out, Booker has revolver in hand, the bullet punching through the Vox's forehead as his warning rings out. Half-raised, his repeater peppers the dresser with Elizabeth's effects with bullets, shredding the drawings and toys. Booker has to look away as the teddy bear turns into bits of fluff and fabric.

Whether from the scream or the gunshot, the Vox converge on them like a swarm of angry bees, the once quiet factory erupting into shouts as the raging revolutionaries descend on Booker and Abigail.

"Son of a bitch!" Pushing the desk to the door and overturning it for cover, Booker stops only to check on Abigail, she already behind the dresser, "Stay down and you'll be alright! I think!"

"Oh, that's very reassurin'!" Whatever else she said disappears in the hail of gunfire.

Repeater in hand, Booker takes cover behind the desk, mowing down wave after wave of Vox, throwing lightning, fire and gunfire out the door. Return fire drops off as their numbers thin, but still more come, pouring through the abandoned lab like an angry red wave. Fink's desk rapidly falls apart under the withering hail of gunfire, the odd bullet managing to find Booker's shield, forcing him to duck behind the desk. The Vox finally take cover, slowly advancing on their target.

"Stop! He's no Founder!" Booker can barely hear her over the gunfire, Abigail shouting to her comrades, poking her head over the desk whenever the hail of bullets slowed.

"Save your breath! They can't hear you!"

Then a bullet tears through Fink's desk, then another, and another, Booker's shield collapsing.

"Ahh!" A shout tears from his throat as another bullet finds his leg, tearing through soft tissue and out the other side, another skimming his left arm, tearing a long furrow across his forearm.

'Click click click…' The repeater falls silent, Booker letting it fall to his side and taking hold of his revolver, cursing through grit teeth and squeezing off shot after shot.

"3… 2…. 1…. Reload… last batch… dammit, almost out of Eve…"

"Booker, just run! Go see your girl, ya don't want to die here!" Abigail reaches for his arm, her hands somehow unbound, strapping the Tear Device to him, "I lost my Ma as a child… nobody should lose their parents so young."

'Clank' A sound of metal striking metal fills his ears, Booker dropping prone, tearing his gaze from Abigail to the Tear Device, the sight of another dent filling him with anger.

"Booker? P-Please! PLEASE DON'T LEAVE ME HERE!"

"Elizabeth? Elizabeth!" Looking up for the source of her voice, panic grips Booker as he sees the Tear appear, the fear in Elizabeth's voice tearing at his soul. He doesn't even hear Abigail as he stands, raising the Tear Device as he goes.

"Booker? What are you doing? Book-agh!" Booker dashes through the opening Tear, glad to be quit of Fink's and the Vox, but the world fades away as a weight slams into his back.

* * *

><p>Booker doesn't know how long it's been since he entered the Tear, only that it couldn't have been long and he was in pain. As he stirs, a distorted young girl's voice gasps, and he realizes his eyes are closed.<p>

Opening his eyes, the light blinds him. "Why's there a little girl here…and what's with all the lights… oh no."

His eyes come into focus and widen in panic. A young girl with glowing eyes, a Little Sister, stares back at him, a monster like the one from his nightmare behind her.

They stare at each other, Booker holding his breath, holding absolutely still despite his wounds. Finally, the girl turns away. "Come on, Mr. Bubbles, we have to get going." The monster follows the girl, the pair disappearing down a dark corridor.

Gasping, both from the pain and holding his breath, Booker pushes himself upright, just trying to alleviate the pain.

"Ma… Pa…"

The voice catches him by surprise. Turning his head slowly, each movement causing his abused body to protest, Booker lays his eyes on the speaker. "Abigail?" Lying unconscious on the tile floor, a gunshot wound in her shoulder, Abigail tosses and turns as if in a fever, moaning.

"Tear sickness…" The words slip out before he even comprehends them, knowing what he must do without knowing why. "C'mon, Abigail, let's get you home."

Lifting her as best he can, Booker opens the Tear once more, placing her just beyond the threshold. "Goodbye, Abigail. And… thanks for all the help."

As the Tear closes, Booker stumbles over to a dark corner, collapsing out of fatigue. "I'll just… rest for a bit. Elizabeth… I'm sorry, just wait for me a bit longer."


	6. Chapter 5: Do Not Go Gentle

Booker does not dream. Memories come instead, flowing easily from beginning to end, Booker perceiving each in turn. They tell his story, they tell Elizabeth's story, and they tell Comstock's story. His mind reels as all is laid bare.

He watches as the Songbird crashes the First Lady, seeing the people of Columbia flee the city as the Vox approach, the crimes the Vox commit against those who couldn't escape. He remembers Elizabeth asking him to swear to kill her rather than allow her to be taken, him promising it'll never come to that. The next memory comes, of him fighting against the distorted Lady Comstock, seeking out Tears so they can learn the truth about her, and Elizabeth reconciling with the woman she had thought was her mother. Booker recalls thinking he owed her a debt, that he would set her free and take her to Paris, the man in New York be damned.

He remembers Songbird attacking again as they approached Comstock House, throwing him into a building high above, the monster coming to finish him off. Then he remembers Elizabeth begging, pleading with Songbird to spare him, to take her back, to take her home… a 'home' she thought of as something akin to death, so like it she couldn't tell the difference.

Booker tries to shut his eyes as Songbird takes her, seeing the tears streaming down her face breaking his heart, Elizabeth reaching out to him one last time before she's taken away. The panic he felt as he ran after them, the anger as he shouted after Songbird that he won't let him take her, all burn inside him as if he was still there. As if Elizabeth was being taken from him this very moment.

He watches as he fights through Comstock House, the pain in his chest intensifying as he hears Elizabeth being tortured through Tears, seeing the horrors to come as he meets the future Elizabeth. She sends him back to the present after giving him something for the girl, he seeing Elizabeth strapped to some kind of machine, Comstock and his scientists torturing her as they try to 'leash' her.

The rage from before returns as he fights through Comstock's soldiers and scientists, fighting until he sets her free from their machine, the pain returning as he sees how much she's suffered. They go in search of the Prophet, both resolved to kill Comstock, though he insists that it be his hand that does it, fighting both Vox and Founders until they stand before him aboard his airship.

Booker remembers the anger, the hate he held for Comstock. He remembers bashing his skull against a basin, drowning him in holy water as Elizabeth tries to stop him. She wanted answers, answers Comstock surely had, answers he had only hinted at. Then he watches as Elizabeth tears down a statue of Comstock to get at the instrument within, stopping Songbird with it and the gift from her future self, the tune to control him.

She sends him to destroy the Siphon and release all of her power, using that power to bring them to a city beneath the sea to finally stop Songbird. She tries to comfort the monster as it dies, the crushing pressure of the depths doing what Booker could not.

And then, finally, he learns the truth. She shows him the truth about himself, and his past. He learns the truth about Elizabeth, who she really is to him. How there are a million, million worlds where Comstock still lives, and the only way to stop him for good. To make as if none of it ever happened.

"No… no! It can't be… Elizabeth, I'm…" He tries to shut his eyes, shut out the pain and guilt, but can't; Elizabeth is his daughter, Anna, the daughter his other self sold to Comstock. And Comstock… now Booker understands how the other Comstock had his face. His hated enemy, the man responsible for all of Elizabeth's pain and suffering, turned out to be just his dark reflection from another world.

He remembers the river she brought him to, the Elizabeths, what must be done to set everything right, to stop Comstock once and for all. Smother the bastard in his crib. He remembers letting them drown him and somehow, all but one Elizabeth, his Elizabeth, fading away.

* * *

><p>Booker wakes gasping for air, the intensity of the memories almost visceral, trying to fight the sensation of water filling his lungs. Sitting there alone, he covers his face with his hands as guilt wracks his heart and mind, almost wishing he could wake from this nightmare.<p>

"You're not awake yet, Booker."

His head snaps up, standing quickly and looking for the speaker, finding only a sink and a mirror before him, everything else darkness. He shudders as he realizes the mirror is the same as the one in his nightmare, the same one Elizabeth looked into during her vision before Atlas killed her. His reflection stares back at him, waiting for him to approach.

"No, not my reflection…" The man in the mirror looks older, tired and worn-down, some gray in his brown hair, his right hand swathed in blue, bloodstained cloth. The same cloth he had in his pocket.

"Booker." The reflection speaks with his voice, yet not quite right. It spoke with a voice thick with weariness and guilt, pain and sadness. The same voice he heard in his memories as that Booker regained his memories.

"… Booker. "

"Good. All that I knew and all that I experienced is now yours, everything, good and bad. Everything I did and everything I'm guilty of. And her." Booker nods, the truths revealed still overwhelming him. "You owe her so much, Booker. Not just you, every Booker DeWitt does. She's always been alone, she's always suffering. We promised to protect her, and we failed. We owe her a debt, and still have not repaid it in full."

Booker looks away, thinking to the nightmare, the knowledge of what's to come bringing a tear to his eyes. "It's up to you, Booker. You must save her, protect her. The only way to clear our debt is to give her a normal life. She deserves nothing less, and so much more."

"But how? How can I? I'm… we aren't good men; she knows what we've done, what you've done. How can she ever forgive us…?" Booker leans on the sink, hanging his head, "I'm too… I can barely move, how can I save her? How can I face her…?" The memory of chasing down Comstock to get Anna back comes to him unbidden, the rage and anguish of that moment forming a knot in the pit of his stomach. He can almost see the AD brand, hovering over his right hand.

"Booker!" The reflection slams its hands on the reflected sink, shouting, jolting Booker out of his self-loathing, "She'll die! She'll die alone in a city as horrible and twisted as Columbia, where no one will know what she did! No one will know her name, or how much she's suffered! Booker, fight! She deserves a normal life, so fight, goddamn you!"

The reflection presses its hands against the glass, as if to reach through and throttle him, "We fought through Columbia for her. You said you'd tear Rapture down before letting her die, so stand and fight. It's the least you can do for her. Bring her… bring our daughter home!" Booker finds himself nodding.

"It's up to you. You must save her, protect her. Give Elizabeth the life she deserves. A home, a family." The reflection leans forward, its hands back on the sink, Booker following suit, the intensity of the other's eyes unnerving him. When he speaks, the words seem to come from all around, the voice echoing in Booker's ears.

"Bring home the girl, and wipe away the debt."

The similarity to the phrase, repeated over and over in his memories, struck some kind of chord in Booker, tears welling up. "Elizabeth… Anna… I'm…"

* * *

><p>"… so sorry…"<p>

The words come out as a whisper, Booker opening his bloodshot eyes, only then realizing he's awake. An overwhelming sense of urgency takes hold, jerking Booker upright.

"I've got to… urk!" Pain flares up immediately, Booker falling back against the wall as he groans. Taking a half dozen deep breaths before trying again, he slowly sits upright, every jostle drawing a grunt of pain, eventually climbing to his feet. Groaning again as he limps about, silently searching for a first aid kit, Booker mulls over the memories and the conversation with his reflection.

The thought that each moment he wasted could be one Elizabeth may not have awakened the panic from the memories, pushing him to drop everything even though he couldn't, Booker reaches for the pocket watch with a shaking hand. The silver gleams in the dim light, the hands revealing he'd only been unconscious for about ten minutes. Ten minutes to relive another life, ten minutes that didn't feel nearly enough. He doesn't bother wiping away the tears he knows are there.

"Elizabeth…" He draws the cloth from his pocket, staring at the blue fabric, emotions storming within him. She'd wrapped this around his hand when he'd gotten stabbed, a makeshift bandage he'd carry the rest of their journey. Just the thought of those times makes his heart ache. Still holding the strip, Booker covers his eyes, the fabric soaking up what was already shed.

Gritting his teeth against the onslaught, Booker runs the tattered cloth across his right hand and around his forearm before bringing it back up, the fabric now wrapped around his arm and hand as he mutters an oath, "Elizabeth… I'll save you this time, no matter what. I swear it."

A weary sigh escapes him, Booker pushing the memories to the back of his mind as he takes stock of his situation. "Well… I'm back in Rapture… I'm in some kind of lab… is that… gunfire out there?" Sounds of fighting pierce the walls, but they sound distant, far removed. Something else catches Booker's eye instead; a white bag with a red cross on it on a table, surrounded by clipboards.

Digging through the bag, Booker lets out a sigh of relief as he finds what he's looking for: medicated gauze and bandages, the package claiming instant relief for aches and pains. Wrapping his wounds in Rapture-style first aid, Booker breathes deeply as some of the pain fades, a smirk appearing for a moment, "Whatever they call first aid here, it really works."

Bandaged, no longer bleeding but still in pain, Booker limps deeper into the lab, trying his best to avoid thoughts of the memories, and failing utterly.

"I sold her… I… how can she ever forgive me for that? Anna… no, Elizabeth…" He shakes his head, instead drawing his revolver, "Six shots left… two short… dammit. I'll save the last for Atlas."

Somewhere during the firefight, the Sky Hook had shattered, now little more than a useless piece of metal encircling his arm. Dropping it and the empty repeater, Booker's mind still reeling from the memories' return, he continues down unfamiliar corridors, corridors of white and black tile floors lined with lab and medical equipment. Booker almost hears the clacking of Elizabeth's heels on the tile, the thought of his daughter drawing a bittersweet smile, replaying her journey in his mind until he comes upon a scene straight from the nightmare: a body, impaled by a massive drill.

"Elizabeth…"

His limp forgotten as urgency takes hold, Booker hobbles forward faster and faster, past the doctor's corpse and the sign of Suchong's Free Clinic, "Elizabeth… it's me, Booker!"

Running as best his damaged body allows, Booker winds through the broken wall and down the maintenance tunnel, around discarded vending machines and broken concrete and rebar. Keeping a hand on the wall for balance, Booker calls out to her, the panic he felt from the last Tear returning in full.

"E-Elizabeth? No…"

Booker falls to his knees, his heart as if someone tore it from his chest. Slumped against the glass window overlooking Rapture lays Elizabeth, battered and bloody, her blue eyes half-lidded and lifeless. A just-wilting red rose rests in the palm of her outstretched hand, the hand the little girl held in the nightmare. A trio of mostly-melted candles lay beside her, the drips of wax fusing them together. A memorial, his mind registers, but the thought does not reach him.

"No… this can't be happening… I came to… I…" Booker reaches for her, brushing the back of his hand against her cheek, finding her cold. Tears trickle down his cheeks as he cradles her in his arms, the few that land on her face rolling down hers as well, as if she shed them herself. "Elizabeth… I'm sorry… I'm so sorry. Please… please don't leave…"

Tears flow freely as Booker collapses, hugging her to his chest as he pounds on the metal floor, howling, cursing the world, cursing Lutece, and most of all cursing Atlas. As the tears dry, his voice hoarse and eyes burning, Booker gently lays Elizabeth down as he swallows back a final sob, holding her delicate hand in his own.

Kneeling before Elizabeth as he stares out into the ocean and upon Rapture for what seems an eternity, time passes without Booker while a single thought repeats in his mind, over and over: "I… failed her." The ground beneath him begins to shake, but he doesn't care. A sound of heavy metal boots striking metal and concrete echoes from down the corridor, but he doesn't care. Yellow light floods the room, but he still doesn't care. Not until the shaking slips Elizabeth's hand from his does he stir, slowly turning to look behind him.

The monster from his nightmare stands there, the drill on its arm still missing, three little girls with it. Each were in his nightmare, and each holds a candle in their tiny hands, the one in the middle carrying a fresh rose. She's wears a black dress, her gray eyes drawing his attention, Booker slowly realizing who she was. "Sally…"

She steps closer, the other girls and the monster following shortly behind her. Placing the candle with the others, she carefully tucks the rose behind Elizabeth's ear before turning to him. When she speaks, her voice is a whisper, the strange distortion he'd heard in the nightmare and the other girl's voice absent.

"Are you her Big Daddy, mister?"

Her question makes Booker cringe, the pain awakening once more. If he had any left, Booker was sure he'd feel tears again. All he can bring himself to do is nod.

The girls place the candles down one at a time with the older candles, one trying to light a match she had in her pocket while Sally and the other looked over Elizabeth, wiping away bits of blood as the light from the monster illuminates the dark room. Once she was cleaned up, Sally pads back to the Big Daddy, whispering something to it.

The yellow light of its multitude of eyes turn green as the girl finishes, a low moan emanating from the creature. It turns to him for a moment before looking away, Booker suddenly seeing the resemblance to Songbird, the irony of the situation not lost upon him; this creature, so like the Songbird that tried to kill him to retrieve Elizabeth, seemed to understand and even empathize with the pain he was experiencing. He remembers the Big Daddy Comstock encountered, and how it fought to protect Sally from him… just like Songbird.

"Aww…" Booker turns to the girl with the matches. The last match sits in her hand, snapped in half, the empty box falling to the floor. She looks lost, not sure what to do next.

"Let… let me." As he speaks, the girls back up to their Big Daddy, the beast's eyes still glowing green as it watches him. He bows his head slightly before going to work, suddenly thankful that at least someone would remember Elizabeth. This memorial, no matter how temporary, was at least something for her. "Elizabeth… I'll come back and bring you home, give you a proper resting place. So just wait for me, alright?"

Placing her hands together, lighting the candles with a snap of his fingers and closing her eyes, Booker rises after ensuring the first rose is still in her hand, a new purpose taking root. Striding past the Big Daddy and the little girls, Booker stops as he passes the monster, the Big Daddy turning to stare back at him. The Big Daddy would protect the girls with its life, and kill anyone that tried to hurt them. Just the same as he would for Anna or Elizabeth. As he marches down the dimly lit tunnel, the sound of Sally singing to Elizabeth reaches him, echoing down the corridor, Booker allowing himself a small smile before turning his attention back to the only thing that mattered now.

"Atlas, I'm going to kill you."

* * *

><p>"Mr. DeWitt… stop, you must… Booker, stop!" Booker ignores Lutece as he storms through the lab, the late arrival only enraging him further. "Please, Booker, you must listen to me!" Lutece stops directly in Booker's path.<p>

"When I get my hands on that Irish son of a bitch, he's going to feel all the pain and suffering she did. All of it. Now get out of my way." Booker plows past Lutece, only barely giving him any notice.

"Stop!" Once again barring his path, Lutece grabs him by the shoulders, finally getting Booker to focus on him, taking his stand at the exit to the lab.

"You're right. I should deal with you first." His words barely a whisper, Booker lunges forward, the flat of his forehead meeting the bridge of Lutece's nose. A satisfying crunch and cry follow.

"You… must stop." Bleeding from his broken nose, his red hair disheveled and expression one of great pain, Lutece tightens his grip on Booker, standing his ground.

"Fine, you pompous ass."

Booker's uppercut catches him by surprise, Lutece's knees buckling, beginning to fall but is caught, his furious attacker holding him up by the tie.

"Give me one," a left cross to the jaw, "good reason why," Booker buries his fist in Lutece's stomach, "I shouldn't kill you." His fist connects with an eye.

"You led me on this fool's errand, and for what? Tear my heart out by showing me my dead daughter?" Tears gather at the corners of Booker's eyes, "Why me? Why of all the Booker DeWitt's out there did you have to pick me?" Still holding him up, Booker draws his revolver and presses the barrel to Lutece's forehead, slowing tightening his finger around the trigger.

"Because you are the only one who can save her." Lutece's voice, weak and racked with pain, somehow stays Booker's hand, "I told you that you are the only one who has the visions, the nightmares. Even with the Tear Device, only you could make the journey, because you are the only one with a connection to her. And… you can still save her."

"H-how?" His voice, choked with sorrow, comes out as a whisper.

"One last Tear, outside by the Bathysphere." Lutece struggles to reach for the door, pulling it open to reveal the way out, "Even after her powers were lost, Elizabeth's passage through Rapture left Tears in her wake, like breadcrumbs through the forest. A trail, a path only you could walk." Booker hesitantly pulls his gaze from Lutece, indeed seeing a Tear hovering beyond the newspapers of the Rapture Tribune counter, just before where the Bathysphere would be.

"I can almost… almost see her; she must be on the other side." Lutece whispers as Booker releases him, disappearing the moment Booker turns away.

Taking a tentative step closer as he holsters his gun, the sound of his shoes on the wood and metal beneath his shoes accompanying the racket of his heart pounding in his ears and the rushing water beyond, Booker sees Elizabeth through the Tear, rage giving way to hope as a smile appears. Then he hears her voice, echoing through the Tear, her words sparking panic anew as he realizes where she is.

"We both know what happens next. Just get it over with."

Booker jumps into the Tear almost before it opens, able to clearly see the other side now; Atlas raising his wrench over a fallen Elizabeth, the psychopath's eyes gleaming with murder, an amused expression on his face.

"Elizabeth!"

* * *

><p><strong>Author's note: This chapter took quite a bit longer than I expected to finish up. Comments and feedback would be especially appreciated. Originally I ended this chapter just after Booker finds Elizabeth, but I couldn't bring myself to leave it at that. First, the chapter wasn't long enough, and second... I don't particularly like leaving things with a cliffhanger that leaves such a sour taste. <strong>

**I hope everyone enjoys this chapter, and that it manages to convey some of the emotion I meant to express.**


	7. Chapter 6: Unbroken

**Author's Note: Hi everyone. This chapter took far longer to finish up than any before it, and I truly hope everyone enjoys it as much as I enjoyed writing it. Special thanks to Xzeihoranth and Happy1K1nob1 for pointing out an error when first posted. I welcome any advice or reviews, so please, if something doesn't make sense, feel free to send me a PM or write a review.**

* * *

><p>She can only watch as Atlas raises the wrench for the killing blow, completely helpless before him. Half closing her eyes, Elizabeth braces herself, her world still out of focus from the first hit. Her addled mind thinks back to the image of Booker, asking her to take a leap of faith while it showed her where to find the Ace, a leap she took only to find that this is where it led. "This is the end…"<p>

"Elizabeth!"

Her eyes snap open as she hears the familiar sound of a Tear opening, seeing its shimmering outline appear behind Atlas, an anguished voice coming from beyond the Tear. A voice she never thought she'd hear call her name again. She tears her gaze away to focus on Atlas again, her head pounding as she does, breathing a sigh of relief as the killer turns away from her. Even after the blow to her head, Elizabeth recognizes the look of someone trying desperately to comprehend what they're seeing, Atlas slack-jawed as he stares at the Tear, a belated shout of surprise echoing throughout the dimly lit room. A shout cut short by a fist hurtling through the Tear. The blow crashes into Atlas' jaw, knocking the murderous thug away from her.

Elizabeth can only stare, her own eyes wide and mouth agape; Booker, not the figment her mind conjured, stands before the Tear, revolver clearing holster as he turns on Atlas' men. Battered and bandaged, a strip of blue fabric… fabric from her skirt from so long ago wrapped around his right arm, he looks almost as if he stepped out of her memories, his face somewhat less weathered than when they first met. The man who tore through Columbia to set her free stands before her once again.

She almost doesn't hear the gunshots that put down most of the Splicers, doesn't flinch as he charges Lonnie, the goon with the muttonchops, Booker beating him bloody before shoving the revolver beneath his chin, "It's a lot faster to play your game with a loaded gun, you sick bastard." Lonnie screams as the hammer cocks, the scream cut short as Booker puts a bullet through his skull. The last of Atlas' men fare little better, the one that had held Sally getting a hit in on Booker's ribs before a hard left knocks him around, Booker grabbing the back of his skull and slamming it into the concrete wall until he stops moving.

As the last fall, a pained groan escapes him as he reaches for what looks to be a bandage covering his ribs, bloody gauze visible beneath a ragged tear in his shirt and vest, a faint amount dampening the fabric around the wound. Booker stumbles, weariness etched in his features as he makes for her, a hint of a limp in his gait.

"Elizabeth…" Booker starts, kneeling before her, his green eyes bloodshot as if he'd been crying, "Sorry I'm late… I…" His voice falters. Elizabeth doesn't know what to say, doesn't even know if what she's seeing is real or a delusion caused by head trauma, her hand reaching for Booker's face almost of its own volition. He rests against her palm as her trembling fingers caress his cheek, the warmth of his touch bringing her back to reality.

"Look out!" Sally's scream interrupts their reunion, giving Booker a split second to react, bringing an arm up to protect himself and shielding her with his body.

Atlas' wrench crashes down on Booker's arm and through his shield, visibly crushing the bones within. A howl of pain rips from Booker's throat as he falls, backpedalling until hitting the glass wall, his right arm hanging useless at his side. "No…" She hears him growl, sees him pushing himself against the glass to keep from falling.

Crackling electricity dancing between his intended victim's fingers halts Atlas' advance, Booker gritting his teeth as he shakily brings his left arm up. "Get away… from my daughter…" despite their dire situation, Booker's words warm her heart, "you son of a bitch!" Bolts fly from his fingertips, Booker roaring at Atlas as they arc towards him, his roar full of pain and sorrow. Elizabeth cringes as it reaches her.

"Nice try, boyo," a sneer appearing on his face, Atlas leans to his right, the errant bolts sailing over his shoulder and beyond harmlessly, "but you're a bit off the mark." Atlas' mocking laughter replaces the crackle of electricity, filling her ears, the obsidian-like crystal shards of Shock Jockey disintegrating as Booker's arm drops, "Not a bad attempt, but you fell a wee bit short. Shame, for you that is."

A crazed grin distorts Atlas' features as he nonchalantly strolls over to Booker, swinging his wrench around lazily. Chuckling as he stops before Booker, Atlas raises the wrench once more, triumph written across his face as he slowly lifts the weapon overhead.

Still bracing against the glass with his good hand, Booker growls at Atlas through grit teeth as he struggles to rise, clenching his fist and cursing, his head bowed as his strength visibly fades. Elizabeth feels her heart seize up, despair returning as she sees him falter. She looks down, resting her forehead against the cold floor, feeling tears of her own forming. She'd watched Booker die once before, she couldn't watch him die a second time for her sake.

"… fight…" Elizabeth's gaze rises as she hears Booker, "she deserves a normal life… so fight…" The words come from Booker, but surprise registers on his face as they do; his eyes snap open and he lunges, bringing his good hand up, teeth gritting as his face contorts in pain. Her heart soars.

The wrench stops, Atlas' wrist caught in Booker's grip, the two men staring at each other. Atlas' smirk momentarily fades as he glimpses the fury in Booker's eyes; fury Elizabeth had seen when he killed Comstock. "I won't let you hurt her again… I won't watch her die again! I'm not letting you take her, you hear me?!"

Booker pulls Atlas towards him as he surges forward, slamming his forehead into Atlas' face, a sickening crunch makes Elizabeth cringe again as blood pours from his nose. Booker releases the wrist just long enough to ball his hand into a fist, swinging as hard as he can, another roar full of anger and anguish ripping from his throat.

His fist catches Atlas just as it did when he flew through the Tear, right in the jaw, a crack sounding as the psychopath stumbles back. Launching from the glass, forward momentum the only thing keeping him up, Booker lays into Atlas, lashing out with his good fist to find face, ribs and gut over and over.

"You twisted, sadistic bastard, why do you have to kill her?! Huh? She got you out, got you your Ace! Just leave her alone, damn you!" Booker rages as he decks the murderous thug with an overhand left, reversing the motion to strike with his knee, burying his kneecap in Atlas' solar plexus and knocking the wind from him. But Atlas doesn't fall.

With each strike, Elizabeth pushes herself up a bit more, her mind racing as she tries to think of some way to help. But before long she realizes something: "It's not enough…" With each strike, the next comes slower, each blow less ferocious than the one before, Booker's breathing turning ragged and shallow. Booker raises his fist once more, throwing his whole weight behind the attack, grunting from the exertion.

But he doesn't connect, his foe bringing up his arms to protect himself like a boxer, Atlas finally recovering enough to defend himself. He stumbles again as his fist meets resistance, Elizabeth only able to watch as Atlas' return straight sends Booker stumbling back to the window. Labored panting fills Elizabeth's ears as Atlas and Booker struggle to catch their breath, the former's eyes flashing with anger as he rubs his jaw and wipes blood from his nose, the latter barely able to keep himself from collapsing completely, both men staring at each other. Despite the savaging, Atlas looks only somewhat worse for wear, still on his feet, the discoloration of bruises beginning to form.

"Defiant to the end, eh, boyo? I've got something for that." Atlas lashes out, the smirk returning as his knee slams into Booker's skull, the glass behind him shuddering under the impact. Booker falls back against the transparent wall, whatever strength he had left deserting him as he falls.

"You've got a mean left there," the Irish accents disappears as Atlas snarls back at Booker, a coarse voice more likely to have come from the Bronx rather than Dublin coming forth instead, "but I've got me more than enough scraps under my belt to take a beating or two, mook." He leans closer, "Shame you're all shot up, I'm always game for slugging it out."

"Fontaine." Elizabeth whispers the name as Atlas' act slips, the psychopath falling silent for a moment. When he speaks again, the accent is firmly in place.

"I've half-a-mind to break your knees and make you watch as I bash your girl's skull in. Maybe have a bit of fun with her, make it sporting." Still struggling to catch his breath, Booker stares back at Atlas, his red eyes burning with rage. A surge of desperation rushes through Elizabeth, looking for something, anything to stop this madman as he speaks again. "But, I'd rather have her watch you die. You look spent, can't have any fun with someone half-dead already."

A perversely gleeful grin appears as Atlas raises the wrench, "Watch closely, darling, as I dispatch your would-be-hero. Don't you worry, I'll be dealing with you nex-gahh!"

The report of the revolver drowns out Atlas' grunt of pain as a bullet tears into his arm, the wrench falling from his hand, clattering on the metal flooring. Her hands shaking and she barely able to stand, unsteady from the blow to her head, Elizabeth raises Booker's gun, a growl of her own slipping through grit teeth.

"Get out of here," Booker grunts as he pushes himself away from the glass, pulling himself across the floor before painfully climbing to his feet, clutching his broken arm until at Elizabeth's side. "Elizabeth… don't. I know what he did to you," brushing a stray hair from her eyes, Booker manages a short-lived smile, "but I also know you saw something. He'll get what's coming to him… he's not worth dirtying your hands."

Staring down the barrel at Atlas, Elizabeth feels her pulse racing, her teeth clenching. She thinks back to everything she'd experienced since returning for Sally, her mind replaying everything that he had done to her, and to the little girl. What he was about to do before Booker stopped him. What this sadist was going to do to the both of them, just to draw out the pain he could inflict. Her finger closes around the trigger, tears welling up in her eyes, "I have to do this…"

"Elizabeth… please," Booker's hand comes down on the gun, his weary voice barely more than a whisper, almost sounding like a plea, "look at me."

Slowly, hesitantly, she tears her gaze from Atlas, staring into Booker's green eyes. She finds herself fighting to suppress a whimper as she does; she sees a great deal of pain in his unfocused, bloodshot gaze. A smile, a pained but absolutely genuine smile appears as she stares back at him, relief evident on his face. But there is also tension in his features, as if something is still weighing on him, something he feared coming to pass.

"Trust me. Everything will work out. I know how much you fought to keep from killing anyone, you don't… I don't want any more blood on your hands."

The far-off look in his eyes, his calm, reassuring voice soothed her, mingling with her relief from being rescued and joy from being reunited with him. The feelings struggle with her anger at Atlas, all the fear and pain she'd felt before coming to the forefront of her thoughts.

A sigh parts her ruby lips, Elizabeth gritting her teeth as she struggles to get the words out, "Just… just go." Her words are quiet, her voice low, Elizabeth still wanting to end this monster before he can hurt anyone else. But when Atlas hesitates, her voice is anything but a whisper, "Would you kindly get the hell out of here?!"

The clatter of the wrench sliding across the floor masks the sounds of Atlas' footfalls as he flees, cursing at the tool as he kicks it and at them once well away. She doesn't lower the weapon until the noises completely vanish, the revolver falling from her fingers the moment she's sure they're alone.

"Booker!" Elizabeth cries his name as she wraps her arms around him, hugging as fiercely as her exhausted limbs allow, tears finally streaming down her face, "You came for me… I missed you so much… I…I…" He hugs her just as tightly to his chest, her tears dampening his vest as he murmurs comfortingly in her ear. She feels him stroking her hair as she sobs into his chest, her swollen eyes cracking open as she recalls this feeling from not so long ago, from what she had thought was a dream.

The murmurs fade away, Booker's voice returning after he takes a deep breath, "I missed you too, Elizabeth… I'm so sorry… sorry for leaving you alone, sorry for everything…" His voice cracks, Elizabeth feeling his shoulders shaking ever so slightly in her arms, hears him fighting back a sob of his own.

A smile blossoms as she hears him say he missed her too, parting just long enough to shake her head as he tries to apologize. "Stop, please," she looks up at him, still smiling, seeing a touch of moistness in his eyes, "it doesn't matter anymore… you're here…" Her voice falters, Booker pulling her back against his chest as she sobs again, she hugging him back with all she could muster. She doesn't care that he looks younger than she remembers, that he may not be the same Booker she knew. Her only friend, her father had come for her, and she couldn't be happier.

"E-Elizabeth, you're hugging too…" She almost doesn't hear him over her sobs, gasping for air between each heave of her chest. "Gah!"

His gasp of pain loosens her grip, Elizabeth hastily releasing him from the bear hug as she realizes she's hurting him, looking him up and down while worrying over his wounds. Her brow furrows as she sees the amount of blood soaked up by the bandages, "We-we need to find you some first aid, you're bleeding too much…" She thinks back to the medical journals in her tower, the chapter on exsanguination coming vividly to mind.

He shakes his head, straightening slowly, the effort twisting his features with pain before he manages a smile, "D-don't worry, I'm fine. Never mind me, let me look at you." He brings his hand to gently touch her neck, his thumb brushing her cheek as he looks her up and down, his gaze lingering on the head wound, "Are… are you alright? Your head… he hit you with a wrench…"

She smiles again as he worries over her; she still feels a little woozy, her head still throbbing from the blow to the head, but she thought she'd be fine. Touching a finger to the wound, she winces a bit, Booker heaving a sigh of relief as she nods. "Hold on a second…" Elizabeth stares back at him, a question forming as her mind recovered from its addled state.

"But... how? How are you…?"

"Lutece." His smile returns as her eyes widen, a shade of a chuckle escaping him, "You didn't think they'd leave you to die, did you?"

"Of course we wouldn't."

Robert Lutece steps from behind Booker, his presence surprising her and eliciting a gasp, Booker only sighing. He holds Booker's revolver as a waiter would a tray, Booker retrieving the weapon and holstering it with a groan, a hint of a smile on the redhead's features, "It's quite fortunate that fellow retreated when he did. I would think it difficult to ward off a homicidal maniac with an empty gun."

His smile widens as Elizabeth's eyes do the same, this time in realization: that was why Booker looked tense as he talked her down, though she couldn't shake the feeling it wasn't the only reason. "Wait…" Elizabeth raises an eyebrow as she stares at Lutece, "What happened to you?"

Though his clothes were tidy and hair combed neatly, Lutece sports a fair number of bruises, a particularly vivid one beneath his left eye. A smirk crosses Booker's face, only adding to Elizabeth's curiosity.

"Let's just say Booker had a traumatic encounter, and blamed me for it. Ahem." Clearing his throat, Lutece clasps his hands behind his back, "Though I'd hate to interrupt this touching reunion, I'm sure both of you have had enough of Rapture. This way, if you please."

Lending Booker her shoulder while holding onto him for stability, his left arm draped over her, Elizabeth keeps her eyes open as they follow Lutece, fearing that this could all be a dream that might vanish if she let her eyes close. Sally's little hand closing about her fingers gives her some assurance it isn't.

Lutece leads them through the broken wall, through Suchong's lab and past the room with the doctor's corpse, coming to a stop at the exit of the Free Clinic. "Ahem…" Turning back to the trio, Lutece turns his attention to Sally, "You'll have to leave the little one here. She still has a role to play in Rapture."

"Now just wait one minute!" Elizabeth starts, anger flashing as she tightens her grip on Sally, "I came back to save her, I'm not just going to abandon Sally!"

"Elizabeth," Booker's calloused hand touches her chin, turning her to face him, "don't worry. She'll be alright. There are people who will help her, she'll be safe."

"How… how do you know? How are you so sure?"

She leans closer as he hesitates, seeing a pained look in his eyes, silently pleading with him to explain. "I… I saw you die. Every time I closed my eyes this past week. I saw the visions you had, and would have had. I… didn't know your name, what we'd gone through, or even that you were my daughter... but still, every time I watched him kill you…"

For a moment, Elizabeth was sure he wasn't seeing her, instead reliving that moment. As the moment passes, Booker shakes his head and whispers, as if his voice would bring it about, "Trust me… someone will save her. The man in the sweater, he's coming for them."

"My own death…" Elizabeth couldn't help whispering, the thought turning her stomach, what Booker said earlier now making sense. She never forgot watching Booker die, the pain and grief she'd felt as he closed his eyes for good, and for him to have to relive that over and over… Elizabeth shudders. If the visions were fragments of what she saw behind the doors, and Booker had seen them…

She turns to the Little Sister, squeezing her tiny hand, "Sally… you have to go now. Go on, this is where you belong for now…" She tries to sound reassuring, as Booker did, but she couldn't keep her voice from trembling; she doesn't know what lay in Sally's future, and leaving the girl here terrified her.

Kneeling before the Little Sister, Elizabeth gives her a tender hug, another tear rolling down her cheek before releasing the girl. Sally stands there silently, staring back at her with big blank eyes before waving goodbye and scampering off. She stops at the room where the doctor's corpse lay, turning to stare back at her with her completely gray eyes. "Thank… you…"

"Goodbye, Sally." Elizabeth waves after the Little Sister as she disappears around the corner, a bittersweet smile appearing as she hears a distant, distinctive voice of a Big Daddy coming from the direction Sally had gone. Rising slowly, she feels Booker wrapping his arm around her again, hugging her to him as comfortingly as she imagined he could.

"Very good." Turning back to Lutece, Elizabeth wipes tears from her eyes as he continues, "If Booker would activate the device one last…" A shriek of a microphone assaults them, Booker turning about a bit too fast in search of the source, pain wracking his features as he leans on her shoulder again. She shudders, covering her ears against the onslaught.

"Well, well," a voice comes from a pair of speakers appearing from the wall, the panels that covered them opening on either side of the exit, "I never imagined I'd find you still among the living. You truly are an extraordinary individual, aren't you, Ms. Comstock?"

She feels Booker tense, the arm draped over her shoulder stiffening first at the voice, then again as the speaker mentions the name. "Andrew Ryan." Booker growls the name, Elizabeth turning to him in surprise, "What business do you have with us? Going to send more 'sharks'?"

"I have no business at all with you, just with the young woman who's supporting you. Though I must admit, you are a mystery yourself, Mr. DeWitt. Tell me, how well do you know the young woman? She's far more dangerous than she appears. There was a Booker DeWitt in my city, a much older man than you. Young Ms. Comstock there led him away, and my men found him dead in the prison I had sunk far below."

Ryan chuckles over the speaker at their silence, "It's quite simple, Ms. Comstock." He turns his attention back to her, ignoring Booker and Lutece completely, "I still want you to work for me. You've quite the journey to escape my city, and I guarantee that Atlas will return to finish you, if you aren't protected. I don't know why you went so far to save your Sally just to let her go, but one Little Sister doesn't much concern me. You're an intelligent woman, Ms. Comstock, and when you come to work for me, I'll even guarantee the safety of your friend."

Elizabeth takes a deep breath as Ryan continues, the smugness in his voice straining the very last of her patience. When he finally finishes, she doesn't bother keeping her frustration with Rapture, Ryan and everything else from her voice.

"My name, Mr. Ryan," Elizabeth feels a grin appear despite her irritation, "is DeWitt, and we don't have quite the journey ahead of us that you imagine." With that, Booker raises his left arm and the Tear Device, Elizabeth reaching for it and pressing the button as they step through the door.

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><p><strong>Author's Note: There's the climax, folks. We're not quite done yet, though, still a bit left to tie up before the epilogue (which may have to be segmented.) I hope everyone enjoyed it, and that it was as satisfying as I hope it was. Thank you, and please feel free to let me know what you think.<strong>

**Edit: The amount of attention this chapter's received has really blown me away (even on deviantart, where Unbroken usually goes unnoticed.) I'm glad so many have enjoyed this, but I'm also a little saddened because the end is not too far off.**


	8. Chapter 7: You Belong To Me

**Author's note: Nearly didn't get a chance to upload this chapter on time, power outages due to storms make doing so difficult. Once again, I'd appreciate any comments or advice, especially if something looks confusing. This chapter also refers back to Song of Sorrow, so if you're not familiar with it, you may want to check it out. Again, I hope you enjoy this chapter, and thank you for reading.**

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><p>Stepping through the door, they leave behind the world of dank, murky darkness, stagnating water and artificial illumination that is Rapture for one that is anything but, Booker and Elizabeth find themselves in a place all too familiar and all too painful. The sea air caresses their brow, the light of the sun warming their tired bodies and waves gently lapping against smooth stone, all stir memories better left forgotten.<p>

"Welcome back to the Sea of Doors." Lutece bows slightly, turning about on his heels and starting down the staircase, motioning for them to follow, "Come along now, my sister is waiting."

Remembering the last time they were here together, the memory alone beginning to unnerve her, Elizabeth breathes in deeply to steady herself before taking the first step, taking it slow and steady so Booker can keep up. The worry grows with each step, her mind racing as she imagines what could still go horribly wrong. She turns her gaze to Booker, hoping for a knowing look or a comforting smile. But all she gets is Booker turning to her as well, his eyes reflecting the same worry she suffers through.

A nervous smile plays across her face as she reaches for his hand, still dangling over her shoulder, giving it a comforting squeeze, "It'll be alright. Let's go." She carefully leads him down the lighthouse steps as she did before, though this time she knew no more than he. This time, she hoped they could be together, that they wouldn't be forced to part.

"It's about time; the doors will be closing soon." A voice drifts up the stairs as they approach the bottom, a familiar, somewhat uninterested voice. She ignores the voice, keeping her pace slow and steady, careful not to jostle him, Booker grunting as he struggles to readjust the satchel on his right.

"Yes, yes, but not now. What's important is that he was successful, though he did cut it rather short." Lutece's voice chimes in, his tone matching the other voice almost perfectly.

Stepping onto the dock, Booker and Elizabeth find the siblings Lutece aboard a rowboat, the same rowboat that brought her to Rapture, the long absent Rosalind turning her gaze to them. "I suppose so. Very well, climb aboard. Hurry now, we must be off, we haven't time to dawdle."

"Quite right, once the sun sets we won't be able to send you anywhere." Robert continues, the oars already in hand. A smirk tugs at his features as he stares back at Rosalind, visibly relaxing in his seat. Elizabeth had never seen either Lutece gloat, but the look on Robert's face screamed 'told you so'.

"The doors will close." Rosalind, ignoring her brother's amusement.

"But not for us, sister."

"Of course."

Father and daughter climb aboard as asked, Elizabeth helping Booker to his seat, the Luteces waiting patiently for their injured passengers. Once seated, the boat pulls away from the lighthouse and Rapture as Robert starts rowing, and soon they are crossing the Sea of Doors in earnest. No piers rising as they pass, no other selves appearing, the world is empty save for them, the Luteces and the lighthouses. Elizabeth looks over her shoulder to watch the lighthouse fade into the distance, glad to finally be free of Rapture.

"Before I forget," Rosalind Lutece breaks the silence, turning so she faces Elizabeth, a medical bag appearing in her hands, "I must check your wounds. It won't do to have gone through all this trouble just to have you pass on the way home." Elizabeth couldn't help wincing as hands probed her head wound, the ease with which Rosalind mentions her mortality doing little to ease the nervous knot in the pit of her stomach.

"'All this' what, sister? You stayed here and occasionally checked in on the child while I had to guide Mr. DeWitt. And I'm still the one rowing!" A wry grin appears as Robert pipes up, the amused expression he sports in sharp contrast to the impassive features of his 'sister'.

"Yes, brother, and when you returned from the thrashing Mr. DeWitt gave you, I inspected you in much the same manner. You must agree that you came out better for it, I even managed to set your nose." She glances back at her 'brother', an exasperated sigh her only response to his amusement.

"Thrashing…" A smile blossoming on Elizabeth's lips, she glances between Booker and Robert, and she couldn't contain the giggling Booker's sheepish expression evoked.

"Well, he deserved it." His broken arm now in a sling thanks to Rosalind Lutece's inspection, Booker manages a smile, looking even more sheepish and drawing outright laughter from Elizabeth, "You led me to a time where I'd only find Elizabeth…" his voice falters, his gaze darting to her, Elizabeth's laughter stopping long enough for her to meet his gaze. "… He let me see your corpse. I truly wanted to kill him for it."

Elizabeth's laughter fades away at the sobering statement, but the slight blush on rough Booker's face brings a smile back. Unmoved by Elizabeth's amusement, Rosalind Lutece sits back, nodding satisfactorily, "There, that should do it, I don't believe that you have a concussion. You'll both be fine once you've rested a bit."

Nodding to Rosalind and Robert, Elizabeth turns back to Booker, "Is there something… else?" She couldn't help but feel he was holding something back.

Booker hesitates, she huffing in mock annoyance before leaning closer, almost nose to nose with her father. "Alright, you win, Elizabeth. Sally and two other Little Sisters… they were building… building you a memorial. They brought candles and roses, one in your hand and another in your hair. She… she asked me if I was your Big Daddy…" His voice cracks as he relates his encounter with Sally and the Big Daddy, any amusement Elizabeth still felt withering away as she listens.

"Some thanks I get for helping one cross time and space to find the other." If he was annoyed, Robert Lutece did a superb job hiding it, "It'll be some time until we arrive, both of you should get some rest until then."

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><p>The company spends the better part of an hour crossing the Sea of Doors, Elizabeth dozing as the twins chatter and the sounds of the ocean fill her ears, resting her head on Booker's shoulder and feeling safe for the first time in what felt like ages. She vaguely hears him humming a tune, the tune from the song she learned in Rapture, off-key though it was. A smile briefly blossoms as she opens her eyes, waiting for the right moment.<p>

"_I'll be so alooone without youuu_…" Her voice startles Booker, the tune faltering as he turns to her. She smiles, Booker mirroring her after a moment, getting her meaning as he picks up the tune "_maybe you'll be lonesome toooo_… _and bluuue_._"_

She wraps her arms around Booker's, remembering the sorrow she'd felt whenever she sang this song. Tears gather at the corner of her eyes, "_Fly the ocean in a silllver plane… see the jungle when it's wet, with raiiin._" She smiles again as the tears streak her face, but not like before. These were tears of joy,"_Just remember… till you're hooome aaagaaain_… _you belooong… to meeee_…" She closes her eyes again, returning to his shoulder as the Luteces politely clap and Booker chuckles, the world going out of focus as she returns to dozing.

His voice wakes her some time later, a yawn sounding, Elizabeth needing a moment to realize it was her own. "Lutece, you said I was the only Booker with these memories. And when I remembered everything, I had a vision of the other Booker in a mirror, speaking to me. Why?"

Both Luteces turn to one another, the sister speaking first, "Not the quickest on the uptake, is he?"

"Well, you can hardly blame him, it's not the easiest thing to grasp, and he's had quite the journey."

"What the hell are you two talking about?" His voice rising in irritation, Booker grips the seat hard enough for the wood to creak, his knuckles turning white.

"Booker," Rosalind spoke quietly, the timbre of her voice almost sympathetic, "as my brother told you, the reason you were having those visions is because you share a connection with Elizabeth, something we were quite surprised to learn. And from what we witnessed, a connection that kept defying the laws of the universe."

"It was a most interesting thing to observe, really. Your mind kept desperately trying to remember, especially whenever you two were drawn together, yet whenever it happened you began to forget. I postulated you were trying to remember subconsciously, but the Tears you encountered before my brother arrived accelerated the process too quickly, so your mind hid those memories away. I take it you remember none of it, yes?" Rosalind continues, her voice indifferent once more, Booker shaking his head out of frustration.

Elizabeth stares back at Rosalind Lutece, barely able to wrap her mind around what the redheaded scientist just revealed. "I already figured as much. What I want to know is WHY." Booker's voice surprises her, no small feat given what was just said.

"Elizabeth, when you were performing for that Cohen fellow, Booker felt it. It was actually quite touching, watching the two of you place your hand to a window, sharing a moment even though you didn't know it. When you returned to your apartment and collapsed on your bed, you thought you had a dream, yes?"

It was her turn to nod, eyes wide, glancing at Booker only to see him covering his eyes. "You weren't dreaming. You opened a Tear that enveloped the both of you, a space between worlds where the two of you could be together, if only for a short time. The Tear could only find him because of your connection."

"I… I think I remember now…" Uncovering his eyes, Booker turns from the Luteces to her, "I remember humming, and… and you were crying…" She remembers, too. She'd truly thought it a dream, sobbing on her bed as he stroked her hair, pouring her heart out to him and begging for his forgiveness.

"And afterwards, you-"

"Sister, stop. Stop dragging it out, let them have a moment." Robert grabs Rosalind by the shoulder, his voice carrying a hint of irritation before turning his attention to them, "Elizabeth, Booker felt your death. He collapsed, and I'm sure he saw something. The nightmares of your return to Rapture started that night."

"No…" Elizabeth whispers the word, trying to process everything the Luteces had revealed; she knew all too well how painful and startling those visions could be, and for Booker to suffer through them for a year and be forced to watch her die… how could she face him? He'd suffered because of her over and over; in Columbia, by coming to rescue her from Rapture, and now for so long at home? "Booker," Elizabeth looks up at him, taking hold of his sleeve, "I-I didn't know… I'm sorry, I'm sorry for everything… for what we had to… for making you suffer for so long…"

"Elizabeth." His hand closes over hers, a smile appearing as he turns to her, shaking his head, "You have nothing to apologize for; I never blamed you for anything…"

They sit in silence, each soothing their pain with the other's presence. When Booker finally stirs, his hand disappearing from her own, Elizabeth breathes a disappointed sigh, wishing they could go on like this for a little while longer.

"Alright, Lutece, you've made your point about us having a bond, but you still haven't told us WHY it exists. Come clean, already."

Now Robert heaves a sigh of his own, as if the words would leave a foul taste in his mouth. "Very well. You share a connection formed from shared hardships and tempered by the Tears. Booker, Elizabeth, you share a bond that transcends the barriers of time and space."

As he speaks, Elizabeth hears clearly a touch of worry and no small amount of sympathy in his voice, "Booker, you ARE Elizabeth's Booker DeWitt. You are the one who stepped through the Tear to see your daughter again, who fought through Columbia for Elizabeth's sake and finally set her free.

"When you sacrificed yourself, your death rewrote all the timelines," Robert continues, "If you recall, you woke a year ago at your desk and rushed to check on Anna, almost as if you were uncertain she was there, and the visions started afterwards." He pauses, as if reliving something unpleasant.

"That was when your timeline was rewritten, the moment when Comstock and I would have come for Anna. Your lingering memories caused your concern, memories of losing your daughter. You shouldn't have been able to remember anything more, but the bond kept the memories alive, if buried. The bond is also more than likely the reason why Elizabeth couldn't find you; you were too close for her to see."

"So… so… I really did…" Resting his head in his hand, Booker's voice begins to crack, Elizabeth placing an arm around his shoulders, "I… sold my daughter?"

"Technically speaking, yes…" Rosalind starts.

"And in reality, you absolutely did not." Robert finishes, "Anna is still at home, waiting for you to return. The events that took place in the previous timeline, it's all been wiped clean, now only existing in our memories."

Elizabeth stares at Robert Lutece, the vehemence in his voice surprising her; he'd always sounded mildly bored, uninterested, never passionate or emotional like this. Turning to Booker, she whispers to him softly, "He's right, you know. There is no Comstock anymore… just you and Anna. And if… being near me makes you feel guilty…" Her voice fails her, the fear of being forced to leave Booker starting to appear a reality. She couldn't stay if her presence would only bring her father pain.

"No." Raising his head as she begins to sniffle, Booker pulls her into a hug as she struggles to keep the tears at bay, "Don't even think it. I can't lose you again, not ever. You belong with me, and I with you… Elizabeth, you deserve a family, so please… come home." His voice thick and raw, she hearing a hint of anguish, Elizabeth nods and hugs him back. She can't keep the smile from her lips as he gently kisses her on the forehead.

"One more thing..." Carefully slipping out of the hug, his eyes still bloodshot and swollen from the pain and heartache he'd weathered, Booker reaches into his satchel, "I thought you might want this back."

A smile blossoms as she sees the velvet blue of her old dress, despite the tears just beginning to fall, tentatively taking it from Booker. "So many memories are wrapped up in this… good and bad." Whispering into the fabric, Elizabeth sobs into her dress, her tears dampening the material. Wrapping his good arm around her, her father, her only friend, hugs her as best he can, his arm warm and strong.

"We've arrived." Both Booker and Elizabeth look up, the Lutece twins speaking in unison. The rowboat pulls up to a lighthouse no different from any other, both Luteces waiting on them, the sun nearing the horizon.

"Come on, Elizabeth," Booker rises to his feet, the effort twisting his features with pain, offering her his hand once upright, "we're almost there."

Climbing onto the pier, Booker helping Elizabeth up, both turn to the lighthouse only to hear the boat push off behind them, she turning about quickly to see the Luteces rowing away. Panic grips Elizabeth, cupping her hands over her mouth, shouting after them, "Where are you going?!"

"Everywhere, anywhere, whenever… who can say?" Both reply in unison, as they did so often.

After a moment of silence, the brother continues, "Booker, Elizabeth, I wish you happy lives. Fear not, this isn't goodbye, just… until next time."

A flood of emotion swells within Elizabeth, bursting through the last of the accumulated shock built up since returning to Rapture, tears flow freely again as she shouts back, "Thank you!" Turning to face Booker, to her father and friend, her voice now but a whisper, "Thank you so much…"

Another smile crosses Booker's face, "Let's go home, Elizabeth."

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><p>The old wood and glass door opens slowly, creaking on rusty hinges, the lettering on the glass reading DeWitt Investigations, Booker's office and home. The owner tentatively steps into the dark room, leading a young woman by the hand, the wooden floorboards beneath their feet quietly groaning as they pass. Gentle snores greet them, and he brings a finger up to his mouth, "Shhh…"<p>

Stealing through the darkness like thieves in the moonless night, the pair approaches the only other sound in the apartment, the gentle snoring emanating from behind the desk. The darkness conceals everything, forcing him to search for the oil lamp on the desk, fumbling with the glass and metal fixture. A quiet curse escapes him as he singes his finger and drawing a chuckle from the girl, she quickly covering her mouth to suppress the noise as the light of the oil lamp reveals an elderly woman, her spectacles teetering on the tip of her nose. The same woman he'd asked to care for his baby girl, napping in the chair behind the desk.

"Ms. Pearl." Booker shakes her shoulder, gently at first, waking the older woman, "I'm home; you should be getting home yourself. Thanks for watching Anna." She hears him chuckle as his elderly neighbor stirs.

Ms. Pearl rubs her eyes, blinking the sleep out of them as she picks herself up, "Oh, Booker dear, you really shouldn't be leaving Anna for so long-oh my! What happened to you?" Her eyes snap wide open as she looks upon Booker's injured body, lingering on the broken arm in a sling.

A sly smile appears on Booker's face as the older woman frets, reminding Elizabeth of when she called him a roguish-type, drawing another chuckle. "There is someone I need to protect, Ms. Pearl, and that meant fighting off a psychopathic thug with a wrench. I'm fine."

Ms. Pearl let out a long, exasperated sigh, "Now look, dearie, you have to take care of yourself! What would Anna do if something were to happen… to… oh, excuse me, who's this?" Both Booker and Elizabeth share a smile as the elderly woman focuses on her, the lecture forgotten. Clearing her throat, she raises her right hand to her chest and bows her head slightly.

"My name's Elizabeth, ma'am, Elizabeth DeWitt. Pleasure to make your acquaintance"

"Elizabeth's my first daughter. Elizabeth, this is Ms. Pearl, my neighbor." Booker steps over to Elizabeth, putting his good hand on her shoulder, "She's been living with relatives overseas, and just returned home today. We've had a long day, Ms. Pearl, and we'd like to get some sleep."

The elderly woman rubs her eyes again, nodding to Booker and Elizabeth before shuffling for the door, "Of course, dear. Have a good night, you two." She stops before reaching the door, peering back at them from behind her spectacles for a moment, a smile appearing. As she steps out the door, Booker turns to Anna's room, Elizabeth following silently.

Slipping inside, father and daughter share another smile as they look upon baby Anna, sound asleep in her crib. Stepping closer, Elizabeth places her hands on the crib's railing as she looks upon the sleeping child, marveling at her younger self. She'd seen Anna before, but then she was too distraught over revealing everything to Booker, and afterwards was too wrapped up in her own pain to appreciate the innocent life know before her.

Lighting the small room's sole oil lamp, Booker returns to the crib, gently caressing Anna's cheek with his good hand. The child stirs at his touch, slowly opening eyes bleary with sleep, her blue eyes now staring transfixed up at Elizabeth, mirroring her own. Tears form in Anna's eyes, the child quickly filling the room with her cries of displeasure at being woken.

"Anna," Booker runs a finger through her hair, smiling as she grabs his hand with her tiny fingers, "I want you to meet your big sister, Elizabeth. She's going to be living with us from now on."

Gently lifting Anna from her crib, cooing softly, Elizabeth cradles her younger self in her arms, "Nice to meet you, Anna. I'm Elizabeth." The sobbing slows as Elizabeth continues to coo, Anna peeking up at her again, her blue eyes red and swollen from crying. The crying fades with each passing moment, Anna staring back at her as her sobs finally disappears, a smile appearing on the baby's face. Tears of her own gather at the corner of Elizabeth's eyes as she hugs her little sister.

"She likes you." Booker appears at her side, gently hugging her and kissing Anna on the forehead, Elizabeth turning her gaze to him. He looks older, if not physically, then in his eyes and demeanor, the weight of the other memories taking their toll. Elizabeth couldn't help thinking he looked more and more like his old self.

Booker begins to hum, hugging her and Anna to his chest, Elizabeth recognizing the hymn and joining in as her body vibrates with the notes. The hymn she'd sung in Columbia, the same one Booker had hummed to her while she'd sobbed and apologized that night, when she had brought him to Rapture by mistake. Humming gives way to song, Elizabeth singing the chorus softly for Anna.

_"Will the circle… be unbroken? By and by, by and by. Is a better… home awaiting? In the sky… in the sky…"_

As her voice fades away, she looks to Anna, a smile again blossoming as she sees her sister sound asleep. Booker turns to her, a weary smile on his face, "Welcome home, Elizabeth."

Elizabeth smiles back at him as tears once more stream down her face, her voice cracking,

"I'm home."

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><p><strong>Closing words: And here we are, folks; last chapter aside from the epilogue, winding down from the climax. For those of you who haven't checked my profile page, the ending of Burial at Sea left me hurting, distraught. I started Unbroken as a way to deal with it (and will probably reiterate this after the epilogue.) I've a couple things to touch on here.<strong>

**First, as I mentioned above if anyone hasn't read Unbroken: Song of Sorrow, there's a few parts that reference it directly. Song of Sorrow is a sort of prequel to Unbroken, so I'd advise checking it out if you haven't.**

**Second, I intend to start another story, not so much a side story as an interim piece covering their lives in the time period between the end of this chapter and the epilogue. It'll be a pretty hefty undertaking, and hopefully it doesn't blow up in my face. Haven't even come up with a name yet, and I'd like to ask: what do you think of this idea? Have any ideas of your own?**

**Regardless, I hope you enjoyed this chapter as much as I did writing it.**


	9. Chapter 8: Epilogue

**Author's Note: Even though this is the end, I'd still appreciate hearing what you might think, and will be correcting any errors that I should spot.**

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><p>December, 1897<p>

"Finally…" Elizabeth leans on the railing of the ocean liner, the sea air blowing through her long dark brown hair, music from somewhere near the stern drifting to her ears. "It's taken three years, but finally, finally we're going. Three years since I came home, three years working with Booker and saving every bit we could, and finally we've saved enough."

Breathing in the salty air, Elizabeth enjoys the gentle sea breeze as she thinks back on the past three years; working together, the father-daughter pair had managed to become successful enough to move into a larger apartment, one more suited to a family of three. It isn't the largest, she still shares a room with Booker so Anna could have her own, but in truth she preferred things as they were. From her first night coming home to last night in their small, cozy cabin below deck, every day with her family was a blessing; days filled with joy and warmth, laughter and kindness, and yes some hardships and struggles. The loneliness that she'd known all her life and for a time came to believe was all she deserved, that she'd thought would be her only companion as she lived out her life wandering the doors of the infinite universes, had vanished like an early morning fog as she lived with Booker and Anna. She'd come home at last, she's with her family, and finally, she was happy. And now, they had saved enough for what she had once wished for more dearly than anything; a trip to Paris, for Christmas no less.

A smile blossoms on Elizabeth's face as her thoughts turn to her father; they made as good a pair as they did in Columbia, complementing each other well. Even their toughest cases paled in comparison to their past ordeals, and they'd earned quite the reputation back home. She'd yet to come across a lock she couldn't pick, or a problem that couldn't be solved between her knowledge and Booker's skills.

And they were always learning from each other, Booker refusing to let her join him on cases until he was absolutely sure she could handle herself. She remembers laughing in his face; after everything they'd been through, his overprotective protests struck her as both ridiculous and amusing, but deep down she was touched. She still kept a pair of brass knuckles on her whenever they were away from home, as much for Booker's peace of mind as for her own safety, and today was no exception. Of all the things they'd tried to teach one another, Elizabeth fondly recalls the countless hours they spent as she tried to teach him French, as well as the hours they spent while he attempted to teach her Sioux. They… still had some work to do on both respects.

Booker relaxes against the bulkhead behind her, cradling Anna on his arm, her four-year old sister napping against his shoulder, clutching a book in her delicate hands. From the moment they met, she and Anna have grown very close, becoming sisters in every way that matters, though the truth of their relationship would only confuse the little girl.

Elizabeth smiles again as she thinks back on her life with Booker and Anna; she and Booker having to share the one bed the first few nights, feeling safe, happy and at peace with him by her side, helping to raise her younger self, and learning how to live a normal life and the simple pleasures it brought. They fought as any family does, for she is as stubborn as her father, but he could never stay angry at her, nor she him. Even those painful moments draw a smile from her; she was definitely a DeWitt and Booker's daughter, and they always made up with a hug. Of all the simple pleasures, she loved his hugs more than anything, his great big arms encircling her like a warm blanket comforting her like nothing else, safe in her father's embrace.

Anna loved listening to her sing while their father played the guitar, and Elizabeth loved singing for them. Her sister was actually becoming quite the songbird herself, both of them garnering applause from their neighbors more than once. For some reason, Anna's favorite for her to sing turned out to be the melody she'd performed in Rapture. 'You Belong to Me' became hers and Booker's most practiced performance, much to their chagrin.

The song is no longer the requiem for her father as she'd first performed it, only evoking a shadow of the heart wrenching sorrow that it did in Rapture, even though she still thinks back on painful memories to find the voice for it. For whenever the last note passes her lips and fades into silence, she opens her eyes and sees her family smiling back at her. Booker wasn't immune to the song, either; more than once, she'd caught a hint of a tear in his eyes before he managed to blink them away.

A sigh parts her lips, thinking back to the trouble they went through to convince everyone she was Elizabeth DeWitt, Booker's daughter; though the truth, the similarity in their age would have raised too many questions. After some thought, they'd realized they were only months apart in age, though Booker was still the eldest. Luckily, Booker looked older than he was, and she could fake being younger well enough. But they still had to do some fast talking, and eventually they found themselves breaking into the archives at city hall to falsify some records.

The weight of the memories still made him look older, more like how he appeared when they first met in Columbia, and she could see in his eyes that he still felt guilt over what had once happened no matter how often she assured him he shouldn't. He never let her feel lonely, telling her every day that he loved her. He did everything he could for them. One day he built a bookcase for her and Anna, slowly filling the shelves with whatever she fancied or thought her sister would like. Somehow, he managed to scrimp more than usual to buy her a new dress and Anna a doll despite how tight money was back then.

"I can't believe we're almost to Paris… when we get there, we'll have to see where the twins will decide to pop up first." True to his word, Robert and Rosalind appeared before them shortly after they returned home, promising on their most recent visit to see them in Paris. They were as cryptic as always on their occasional visits, and Elizabeth suspected that Robert just wanted to check up on her, though she didn't mind. Anna looked up to them as aunt and uncle, much to her family's and the twins' amusement.

They never brought danger, only mysteries or jobs that didn't involve Tears or other worlds, as well as souvenirs. Once they brought a bottle of EVE for each of them, which she and Booker promptly used to entertain Anna, saving the rest once her little sister was tired out. Glancing at her hand, Elizabeth smiles as it shimmers translucent for a moment.

Still enjoying the breeze, Elizabeth runs her hands through her dark hair and down the ponytail she kept it in, her fingers brushing the blue cloth from so long ago, the cloth Booker carried through his journey in Rapture. It's only a simple strip of fabric, yet so dear to her heart, an ever-present reminder of her father coming for her, to save her and bring her home. She'd turned it into a ribbon for her hair as it matched the jacket and skirt of her old outfit well, still the most beautiful dress she owned, one she took great care to keep mended and the one she decided to wear today as they approached Paris. She also wears the bird brooch on her choker, every time her fingers touch the smooth surface a reminder of Booker coming for her and her first night home.

Elizabeth heaves a contented sigh, turning her thoughts from the past to the future. She still doesn't have any idea about what she wants to do, now that her life is her own. Go to a university? Find love? Start a family? She just doesn't know, and in all honesty, she doesn't really care; all she wants now is to stay with Booker and Anna, and in truth she saw herself happiest with them when imaging her possible futures. And perhaps, that was all she really needs.

She'd regained the memories that would've been revealed after the fatal blow, and remembers waking in a panic as she experienced the end that had awaited her. Even now, Elizabeth shudders at the thought of Rapture and Atlas, as much as she did at the thought of Columbia and Comstock. Aside from those memories, virtually none of what she'd seen through the doors remained, only able to recall the grieving she'd suffered through for the couple months between escaping Columbia and arriving in Rapture, as well as why she had gone there in the first place. At least she'd acclimated to being without the doors, and had come to enjoy living without the certainty of where her actions would lead.

"Daddy…" Elizabeth turns to her family as Anna stirs, her sister waking slowly and looking up at Booker, the little girl smiling as she rubs the sleep from her eyes. "Down please, Daddy…"

Elizabeth chuckles as Anna slowly steps towards her, leaving her book with their father and smoothing out the wrinkles in her white dress. "Big Sister, I had a strange dream. Can I have a hug?" Smiling as she picks up her little sister, Elizabeth steps away from the railing, closing her eyes for a moment and hugging with all her might.

"Sleepy girl, what were you dreaming about? You didn't have a nightmare, did you?" She spoke quietly into Anna's ear, her sister turning her little head just enough so they were eye to eye, blue eyes identical to her own staring back at her. Anna wore her long hair in much the same way as she, though her larger blue ribbon is tied a little closer and a little higher than hers, her sister's ponytail arching slightly before falling to rest against her white dress.

Elizabeth brushes the hair from the little one's eyes as she closes her own again, listening intently as Anna describes her dream, still hugging her little sister to her chest. Her breath almost catches in her throat when Anna describes fluffy clouds and castles in the sky, but when Anna falls silent Elizabeth manages to let it out with an uneasy chuckle.

"What's wrong, sweetie? You're never this quiet. Come on, you can tell your big sister, right?" But Anna just shakes her head, her dark hair covering her eyes once more and tickling Elizabeth's neck, the girl burying her face in her big sister's shoulder again. "Aww, it's okay, little banana." Anna wrinkles her nose at the nickname before giggling, Elizabeth following suit; when she'd first come home, first lay eyes on her little sister, she was fast asleep in a yellow knit blanket, her little head poking out from beneath the covers. Afterwards, Elizabeth couldn't get the image of a banana in Anna's crib out of her mind.

"Elizabeth." Booker's voice catches her attention, Elizabeth slowly opening her eyes.

"Booker? Oh." Elizabeth falls silent as he embraces her and Anna both, the family standing there silently, oblivious to any onlookers. Booker still had the nightmare once in a while, each time he did he woke in a panic, she having to hold him tight until he calms down. She'd tell him everything was all right, and that she loved him too, Booker hugging her tightly each time. The thought of her father being tormented by her past still hurt her, tears forming before Elizabeth blinks them away, and was one of the most important reasons why they still shared a room.

"I promised to take you to Paris, and now we're only a day away." He mutters quietly so as not to be overheard, his voice drawing another smile from her, "But there's still more to make up. Once, you asked me to dance, and I refused like a fool. That was a mistake, one I'll correct as many times as you want."

They part, Elizabeth placing Anna down gently, the girl trotting to sit against the bulkhead and retrieve her book. Watching her little sister, Elizabeth whispers to him, "Booker, thank you for everything… I can never say it enough." She isn't the Lamb anymore, nor is he the False Shepherd. No more Tears, no more other worlds, false prophets or insane cities. Now she's just a normal girl, with her father and sister. Turning to Booker with a tear in her eye, her smile growing ever wider, Elizabeth offers him her hand, "Come dance with me, father."

* * *

><p>"Father." A smile tugs at Booker's features, her words warming his heart just as they always do. Elizabeth rarely called him as such, he remembering each precious instance, and he thinks he knows why; 'Father' Comstock. Even after everything that they'd experienced together and these past three years living as a family, his insane dark reflection still has a hold on her. And just as always when she called him father, Booker feels tears gathering at the corner of his eyes, remembering how close he came to losing her forever.<p>

Taking her outstretched hand, putting his other on her hip as she does the same with his shoulder, Booker follows his daughter's lead, concentrating to keep from stumbling or stepping on her toes as they slowly dance to the distant music. The smile that lit up Elizabeth's face, the same smile he saw on Anna's as she watched them from behind her book, these precious moments with his daughters are what he holds most dear to his heart. Booker grins as he awkwardly twirls Elizabeth about, enjoying the delighted laughter that bubbles from her throat.

As she comes around to face him again, Booker sweeps Elizabeth from her feet, the laughter half-turning into a surprised yelp as she finds herself aloft. Standing there, her legs dangling over his left arm while he supports her back with his right, Booker once more feels the swell of joy, relief, pride and sorrow as he gazes upon her smiling face. She must've noticed the hint of tears this time, for she reaches for him, wrapping her arms around his neck, still smiling as she touches her brow to his.

Gently he returns Elizabeth to the ground, both of them continuing the dance. He'd sworn to never disappoint her, never fail her again, and now he did everything for Elizabeth and Anna's sake. But the one thing he could never do is forgive.

He could never forgive himself for letting Comstock have her. Would never forgive Comstock for the torture he'd inflicted and the suffering he'd forced on Elizabeth. And he'd never forgive Atlas for trying to murder his little girl. But Comstock is gone, and all Booker can do is to live for his daughters. But Atlas… he did something about that monster.

Booker thinks back to the night the Luteces had come to him, almost two years ago. Elizabeth had been home for a little over a year, and his family would be moving into their new apartment in the morning. He'd made certain Anna and Elizabeth were sound asleep before the Luteces had arrived, not wanting to disturb either with the risks he was about to undertake. A difficult task, for Elizabeth's bed lay behind his desk, right next to his own, even the slightest sound having the potential to wake her. To make matters worse, boxes packed with their belongings littered the floor, small hazards that he had to slip around, glancing over his shoulder whenever he brushed against one to make certain Elizabeth still slept.

He and Robert had tried to limit his impact on the course of Rapture's history, but the twins wanted to make certain events proceeded as they should. So he'd stepped through another Tear, emerging in Rapture high above a place called Point Prometheus.

Rosalind had procured a rifle like the one he'd used in Columbia, and he remembers kneeling in silence with it at the ready, a rope tied to scaffolding coiled by his feet should something unforeseen occur. He'd watched as Jack battled the horrifically mutated Atlas. Atlas, or rather, Fontaine was supposed to die here, and he was ready to step in should history change course.

He remembers grinning as Atlas fell beneath the Little Sisters' needles, heaving a sigh of relief as Jack took the Little Sisters away from Rapture and all the monsters and madness within, seeing the chain tattoo on his wrist as Sally took his offered hand. Once Jack and the Little Sisters were well out of sight, he'd turned his attention back to the monstrous corpse, wishing that it was by his hand that Atlas met his end.

Booker remembers turning to leave, to the Tear and back to Anna and Elizabeth when movement catches his eye; bloated fingers dragging a giant hand across the cracked stone tile, towards one of the syringes the Little Sisters had discarded, chock-full of Adam. Booker's rifle came up almost before he comprehended what he saw; Atlas was still, if barely and not for long, alive.

The gunshots rang throughout Point Prometheus.

Shaking his head and pushing the memory to the back of his mind, Booker focuses on Elizabeth's gentle blue eyes, now staring back at him with a touch of worry. The grin returns as he gently shakes his head, "I'm alright, sweetheart. Just remembering something I had to do a while back."

A cocky grin appears for a moment, Elizabeth glancing at him with suspicion now instead of concern, Booker only able to chuckle, the pair still dancing despite the distractions. She begins to say something, but whatever question or observation she'd come up with died on the tip of her tongue, Elizabeth just staring back at him in silence. He does his best to appear at ease, though he's certain she wouldn't fall for it; Elizabeth had proven to be skilled at sniffing out when someone was hiding something. Though he never means to keep secrets from her, more than once she'd pried something from him that he'd rather not have brought up.

Finally, she rolls her eyes before resting her head against his chest, the ocean blue eyes closing slowly as they continue. Booker breathes a quiet sigh, relieved she hadn't pressed him further; he hadn't told her that he'd stepped through another Tear. Elizabeth has had enough to worry about for several lifetimes; he doesn't wish to burden her with anything else.

Though the nightmare still haunts him, Booker knew she had nightmares of her own to contend with, even though she never speaks of them. Luckily, these nightmares were infrequent, but that fact didn't make her suffering over them any easier to deal with. He'd been awakened in the dead of night by her anguished voice often enough to recognize what he was hearing, and which nightmare she was in the grips of. Elizabeth's nightmares were usually about Rapture and Atlas, Columbia and Comstock, but as time went on a new nightmare began to torment her sleeping mind; he and Anna leaving her all alone. He'd hug her tightly to his chest whenever these miseries came, just as she did for him. And just as always, he'd bring her some tea to soothe her nerves, once she'd calmed down and her grip on him eased.

He'd never stop trying to make things right, never stop fighting for her and Anna, and he'd never, ever leave Elizabeth. Gazing out upon the sea as the deck shifts ever so slightly beneath their feet, Booker again swears silently to himself that he'll do everything in his power to give her the life she deserves, that both she and Anna will be happy no matter the cost.

"I'll never leave you, not ever. If… if you ever choose to leave, for whatever reason, I'll always be right there if you ever need me." He murmurs quietly into her ear, the very mention of her leaving causing him to choke up, "I love you, Elizabeth." The music in the distance comes to an end, but as he makes to part, Elizabeth tightens her hold on him, continuing the dance. Booker can't help the smile that spreads across his face, humming Anna's favorite tune as they dance on.

Anna must have sensed something wrong, for she appears at their side, her little hands tugging at his shirt, "Daddy? Big Sister? Is everything alright?" The worry in his little girl's eyes shakes him from his fears and thoughts of the past.

"Everything's fine, Anna, don't you worry." Elizabeth's voice trembles as she speaks, her gaze lingering on Anna before returning to him. Her hand disappears from his shoulder, Elizabeth reaching to tug her blue ribbon loose, her long brown hair flowing freely in the breeze as the lengthy strip of fabric falls away. For a moment, she looks the very image of her mother, Booker faltering as memories of his late wife and the grief that always follows washes over him.

As the grief and memories fade, he finds the blue ribbon wrapped around his calloused fingers and her delicate ones, Elizabeth taking his hand and shoulder once more to continue the dance, the loose ends hanging between them as they move. "I… I'm not going anywhere, Booker." Father and daughter share another smile, moving as one to wrap their linked hands around Anna and pull her into the dance. Warmth blooms in Booker's chest as they dance, his smile growing as Elizabeth steps in close, whispering into his ear,

"I love you too, father."

* * *

><p>"Brother, you do realize that this may not be over, yes?"<p>

Robert shoots a scowl across the small table at his sister. They sit outside a café along the Seine, Anna dozing between them, strawberry preserve smeared across her lips after finishing her shortcake. The café wasn't far from the DeWitts' accommodations, and Elizabeth in particular had looked delighted when she first lay eyes on it. The City of Lights sports numerous decorations for the holiday season, shining like a glittering jewel, reflected in the tranquil waters of the Seine River.

Booker and Elizabeth dance among a group of locals and visitors alike at this café concert, a catchy, fast-paced number much like the one Elizabeth had danced to at Battleship Bay filling their ears, a pace which left her father breathless. But he doesn't stop, the smile on his face mirroring Elizabeth's, as genuine as the festivities around them.

"Of course I do, sister, that's plain to see for the two of us. But I'm not about to spoil the moment or ruin their time here with something that may never occur." He gives her a sideways glance, the scowl still on his face, "They deserve their hard-won happiness, don't you agree?"

"Of course they do. And I do hope you're right." Rosalind dabs a wet kerchief to Anna's lips, careful not to wake the sleeping girl as she cleans the sweet, sticky mess. "We can't allow anything to befall this family again."

His scowl disappears as he watches Rosalind with Anna, a smile replacing it as he marvels at the change in his sister; she'd quite happily taken to the role of aunt to Anna, and now readily suggesting something she'd been so adamant in refusing not too long ago. To step in once more, should it become necessary. Neither Booker nor Elizabeth could have noticed the change, but he certainly did. And, he muses, he'd changed a bit himself since then.

He remembers the delight on Elizabeth's face as they passed through Rouen, he and Rosalind joining them for the final leg of their journey to Paris. How she'd whispered that everything was even more wonderful than she'd imagined as the Eiffel Tower came into view. How Anna had picked up on Elizabeth's glee and got up to play with her big sister. The debt he'd owed for his hand in the whole tragic story had finally been paid, but Robert wasn't about to just leave the DeWitts on their own.

Laughter draws his attention back to the dance, his smile widening as he sees Elizabeth once again carried aloft by Booker, her legs dangling over his arm as he keeps swinging around with the dance, a big goofy smile on his face.

"Hmm… Big Sister…?" Robert and Rosalind glance back at Anna, the four-year-old rising groggily from her nap. A delighted smile blossoms as she sees her father and sister, hopping from her seat, "I want to dance! Aunty, uncle, you should come, too!" She grabs them each by the cuff, pulling with all her might, her shoes humorously skidding on the brick-paved street.

"In a moment, Anna." Robert raises a hand, staying whatever parting protest the little one had come up with, "Go on, go to your father and sister, we'll be along shortly."

The Luteces share a contented smile as they watch Anna run into her father's arms, Booker lifting his little girl high overhead before placing her on his shoulders. Elizabeth reaches up to take her sister's hands into her own as they continue dancing.

"I dare say, dear brother, you've become quite the caring uncle."

"And you the kind, attentive aunt, sister."

The Luteces fall silent as they watch the DeWitts, singing, dancing, laughing and enjoying themselves to the fullest. Robert finds Rosalind's hand taking his own, a nearly imperceptible smile of her own forming, he only breaking the silence after a good long while. "You're right, sister. We can't let anything threaten this family.

He thinks back to when they'd first become as they were now, how he'd insisted that they send Elizabeth back to her family, and how his sister had predicted it would only end in tears. He also remembers the irritability, the frustration he'd suffered, wanting to leave some sort of mark in the world they'd left. In a way, the family before them was their mark, Booker, Elizabeth and Anna happily together the proof of their existence.

"There are still loose ends out there." Rosalind nods in agreement, "And if one is not cautious, a single loose thread can unravel the whole tapestry."

"Then that is what we shall endeavor to prevent, dear sister. Once they're safely back home, of course." Still watching Elizabeth dancing with her family, Robert smiles again as the blue of her dress catches the eye, her dark brown ponytail trailing behind her as she darts behind other dancers. The music winds down to a close, the DeWitts joining the applause between songs.

The performers of this café-chantant calls out to the crowd and Elizabeth runs up, speaking quickly with the performer with the accordion and lady singer before returning to her family. Booker lowers Anna from his shoulders as Elizabeth's request begins, a knowing smile flashing across his face, Robert chuckling as the song reaches his ear; one not dissimilar from the song that Sally would've sung to her, the one Elizabeth had confided to both he and Booker had figured prominently in her delusion of Paris, so long ago. A slow, tender chanson not at all dissimilar from La Vie en Rose.

Booker and Elizabeth dance as they did aboard the ocean liner, slowly and in each other's arms as the normally romantic song brought their fellow dancers together. Despite the crowd around them, Robert could see their world narrow to just the two of them, dancing together as father and daughter without a care for anything but their family. Anna dances around her father and sister, drawing more smiles from them and the other dancers, a bundle of joy that livens up everyone around her.

Seeing Elizabeth happy, the wounds she bore in her heart and soul mending slowly but steadily, Robert sips at his tea before rising, leading his surprised sister into the dance.

* * *

><p><strong>Closing Words: And that's the end, folks. I truly hope that everyone enjoyed my take on how Burial at Sea, and Booker and Elizabeth's story, should have ended. There's a few things I'd like to cover before checking Complete on Unbroken.<strong>

**First off, why I started Unbroken. (Warning, rant incoming, skip the next three paragraphs if uninterested.)**

**Alright, so when I first started playing Bioshock Infinite, I hadn't watched any of the trailers, read any reviews or comments on forums, so I was going in completely without preconceived notions aside from it being a Bioshock game. When I got to Elizabeth and went through the story with her, I really enjoyed her character and all the little details the developers put into her, and found myself actually caring about her well-being (I know, not a new sentiment, but I'm not normally one to get so attached to a fictitious character.)**

**After Infinite, I held out hope that Burial at Sea could possibly present a genuinely happy ending for these characters that I'd grown so fond of (again, I know, nothing new.) So when all I got was seeing a girl I cared for, felt protective towards well before the big reveal in Infinite, after all the loneliness and suffering she'd experienced in Columbia only to be put through the ringer yet again and to die a mostly meaningless death, I did not take it well. I'm a guy, and I freely admit that there was a lot of tears, and a lot of anger. And not just for the few days after finishing Burial at Sea, but for quite a while. I finished Burial at Sea about halfway through December, started writing Unbroken almost immediately afterwards, and am still feelings some of it now, nearing the end of February. At the very least I can say that I'm just unhappy now (still immensely pissed off, though.) There are still tears whenever I see the end of episode 2, for obvious reasons, but also at the beginning; even though it was just a delusion, Elizabeth was only ever happy there, and the song that played in said delusion and after her death...**

**If you're familiar with tvtropes, the trope Woobie and Break the Cutie felt oh so appropriate for Elizabeth, but without any sort of comfort at the end... yeah, I was fairly convinced that the whole purpose was to twist the knife that was planted with Infinite. As I wrote on my profile, Burial at Sea broke my heart and shattered it to pieces. And, something else on tvtropes (see Torch the Franchise and Run), the possibility that the whole point of Burial at Sea was so no one could do anything with Elizabeth and others... yeah, lots of rage. Now, at least, I'm not angry at anyone in particular.**

**Ok, ranting done, just wanted to put that here to explain why I was so motivated to write Unbroken.**

**Anyway, onto some details some people seem to have their own ideas on:**

**In Unbroken, Elizabeth is no older than twenty years of age, Anna is still one, almost two when the story begins. According to the official wiki, Anna was born in either 1892 or 1893, so I went with early 1893. Unbroken starts exactly a year after Infinite's post-credit scene, so October 8, 1894, with Booker well into his twentieth year. In my Alone in the Infinite, Elizabeth spent two months between Infinite and when she first arrives in Rapture, where she also spent roughly two months before the beginning of Burial at Sea. As such, she's somewhere between very late nineteen and twenty.**

**And that's it. Bioshock Infinite: Unbroken is done, nothing left to tell. The general plot was already set in my mind as I approached the end of Burial at Sea, and I didn't want to make a long-reaching epic like some of the great stories being written here, but a shorter story with a singular purpose: to see Elizabeth finally happy and with her father, as she deserved to be. This is how their journey should have come to an end, as far as I'm concerned, and is what I will think of whenever I'm reminded of how heartbreakingly tragic it actually went. While I'd compare some of the longer stories to be full games, I wanted Unbroken to be about the length of a DLC. If 2K ever makes something even remotely like some of the Burial at Sea rewrites/sequels found here, I'd be overjoyed.**

**While Unbroken is finished, there's still other stories I've yet to complete. A pair (at least) of side stories that I'll be getting to soon, a story I mentioned in the previous chapter about Booker and Elizabeth's lives in the three years between her homecoming and the epilogue (still don't have a good name for it yet.) And... there's another idea that I'd like to mention, if the last segment of the epilogue didn't give it away; I have a sequel in mind, though it may be some time before I iron it out and begin posting here.**

**As a final note, I'd just like to express my deepest gratitude to everyone who joined me on this journey. Everyone who favorite and followed Unbroken and the side stories, and everyone who reviewed and messaged were a big help. Thank you all so very much.**


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